LIBRARY  • 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

RIVERSIDE 


Sir  John  Constantine 


Sir  John  Constantine 


Memoirs  of  His  Ad'ventures  at  Home  and  Abroad,  and  par- 
ticularly in  the  Island  of  Corsica  ;  beginning  'iftth 
the  Year  1756;  l^ritten  by  his  son.  Prosper 
Paleologus,  other<wise  Constantine 


EDITED  BY 


(/^  T,^QUILLER-COUCH) 


^ 


CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 
NEW  YORK    I    •    '    t    •    :    :    :    1906 


■   '  '^  VJV-' 


Copyright,  1905,  1906,  bt 
CHAKLES  SCEIBNEE'S  SONS 


Published,  September,  1906, 


TRO*  OIRECTORY 

PRINTINQ  AND  BOOKBINDINQ  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTRR  PAQB 

I.    Of  the  Lineage  and  Condition  of  Sir  John 

CONSTANTINE 1 

II.  I  Ride  on  a  Pilgrimage 10 

III.  I  Acquire  a  Kingdom 29 

IV.  The  Message  of  the  Silfnt  Men      ...  54 
V.  The  Silent  Men 69 

VI.     How  My  Father  Out  of  Nothing  Built  an 
Army,  and  in  Five  Minutes  Planned  an 

Invasion 84 

VII.    The  Company  of  the  Rose Ill 

VIII.    Tribulations  of  a  Mayor 131 

IX.     I  Enlist  an  Army 148 

X.    Of    the    Discussion    Held    on    Board    the 

Gauntlet 171 

XL    We  Fall  in  with  a  Sallee  Rover    .     .     ,195 

XII.     How  We  Landed  on  the  Island  .      .      .      .219 

XIII.  How  without  Fighting  Our  Army  Wasted 

BY  Enchantment 243 

XIV.  How  BY  Means  of  Her  Swine  I  Came  to  Circe  264 
XV.     I  Become  Hostage  to  the  Princess  Camilla  282 

V 


CHAPTER 

XVI. 

XVII. 

XVIII. 

XIX. 

XX. 

XXI. 


XXII. 
XXIII. 
XXIV, 

XXV. 
XXVI. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The  Forest  Hut 300 

The  First  Challenge 319 

The  Tender  Mercies  of  Prince  Camillo  .  332 

How  Marc'antonio  Nursed  Me  and  Gave 

Me  Counsel 346 

I  Learn  of  Liberty,  and  am  Restored  to  It  365 
Of  My  Father's  Anabasis;  and  the  Dif- 
ferent Tempers  of  an  English  Gen- 
tleman AND  A  Wild  Sheep  of  Corsica  .  388 

The  Great  Adventure 418 

Ordeal  and  Choosing 436 

The  Wooing  of  Princess  Camilla       .     .  453 

My  Wedding  Day 467 

The  Flame  and  the  Altar 483 


Sir  John  Constantine 


SIR  JOHN  CONSTANTINE 


CHAPTER    I 

OF   THE   LINEAGE    AND    CONDITION    OF   SIR    JOHN 
CONSTANTINE 

I  have  laboured  to  make  a  covenant  with  myself,  that  affection 
may  not  press  upon  judgment :  for  I  suppose  there  is  no  man,  that 
hath  any  apprehension  of  gentry  or  nobleness,  but  his  affection 
stands  to  a  continuance  of  a  noble  name  and  house,  and  would 
take  hold  of  a  twig  or  twine-thread  to  uphold  it :  and  yet  Time  hath 
his  revolution,  there  must  be  a  period  and  an  end  of  all  tempo- 
ral things,  finis  rerum,  an  end  of  names  and  dignities  and  whatso- 
ever is  terrene.  .  .  .  For  where  is  Bohun?  Where  is  Mowbray? 
Where  is  Mortimer?  Nay,  which  is  more  and  most  of  all,  where 
is  Plantagenet?  They  are  entombed  in  the  urns  and  sepulchres  of 
mortality. — Lord  Chief  Justice  Crew. 

My  father,  Sir  John  Constantine  of  Constantine, 
in  the  county  of  Cornwall,  was  a  gentleman  of  am- 
ple but  impoverished  estates,  who  by  renouncing  the 
world  had  come  to  be  pretty  generally  reputed  a  mad- 
man. This  did  not  affect  him  one  jot,  since  he  held 
precisely  the  same  opinion  of  his  neighbours — with 
whom,  moreover,  he  continued  on  excellent  terms. 
He  kept  six  saddle  horses  in  a  stable  large  enough  for 

1 


SIR    JOHJsj    COXSTAXTINE 

a  regiment  of  cavalry ;  a  brace  of  setters  and  an  in- 
firm spaniel  in  kennels  which  had  sometime  held 
twenty  couples  of  hounds ;  and  himself  and  his  house- 
hold in  a  wing  of  his  great  mansion,  locking  off  the 
rest,  with  its  portraits  and  tapestries,  cases  of  books, 
and  stands  of  antique  arms,  to  be  a  barrack  for  the 
mice.  This  household  consisted  of  his  brother-in- 
law,  Gervase  (a  bachelor  of  punctual  habits  but  a 
rambling  head)  ;  a  butler,  Billy  Priske ;  a  cook,  Mrs. 
Xance,  who  also  looked  after  the  housekeeping;  two 
serving-maids ;  and,  during  his  holidays,  the  present 
writer.  My  mother  (an  Arundel  of  Trerice)  had 
died  within  a  year  after  giving  me  birth  ;  and  after  a 
childhood  which  lacked  playmates,  indeed,  but  was  by 
no  means  neglected  or  unhappy,  my  father  took  me 
to  Winchester  College,  his  old  school,  to  be  improved 
in  those  classical  studies  which  I  had  hitherto  fol- 
lowed desultorily  under  our  vicar,  Mr.  Grylls,  and 
there  entered  me  as  a  Commoner  in  the  house  of  Dr. 
Burton,  Head-master.  I  had  spent  almost  four  years 
at  Winchester  at  the  date  (Midsummer,  1756)  when 
this  story  begins. 

To  return  to  my  father.  He  was,  as  the  world 
goes,  a  mass  of  contrarieties.  A  thorough  English- 
man in  the  virtues  for  which  foreigners  admire  us, 
and  in  the  extravagance  at  which  they  smile,  he  had 
never  even  affected  an  interest  in  the  politics  over 

2 


LINEAGE    AXD    COXDITIOX 

which  Englishmen  grow  red  in  the  face ;  and  this  in 
his  youth  had  commended  him  to  Walpole,  who  had 
taken  him  up  and  advanced  him  as  well  for  his  abil- 
ities, address,  and  singularly  fine  presence  as  because 
his  estate  then  seemed  adequate  to  maintain  him  in 
any  preferment.  Again  Walpole's  policy  abroad — 
which  really  treated  warfare  as  the  evil  it  appears  in 
other  men's  professions — condemned  my  father,  a 
born  soldier,  to  seek  his  line  in  diplomacy ;  wherein 
he  had  no  sooner  built  a  reputation  by  services  at  two 
or  three  of  the  Italian  courts  than,  with  a  knighthood 
in  hand  and  an  ambassadorship  in  prospect,  he  sud- 
denly abandoned  all,  cast  off  the  world  and  retired 
into  Cornwall,  to  make  a  humdrum  marriage  and 
practise  fishing  for  trout. 

The  reason  of  it  none  knew,  or  how  his  estate  had 
come  to  be  impoverished,  as  beyond  doubt  it  was. 
Here  again  he  showed  himself  unlike  the  rest  of  men, 
in  that  he  let  the  stress  of  poverty  fall  first  upon  him- 
self, next  upon  his  household,  last  of  all  upon  his  ten- 
ants and  other  dependants.  After  my  mother's  death 
he  cut  down  his  own  charges  (the  cellar  only  ex- 
cepted) to  the  last  penny,  shut  himself  off  in  a  couple 
of  rooms,  slept  in  a  camp  bed,  wore  an  old  velveteen 
coat  in  winter  and  in  summer  a  fisherman's  smock, 
ate  frugally,  and  would  have  drunk  beer  or  even 
water  had  not  his  stomach  abhorred  them  both.     Of 

3 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

wine  he  drank  in  moderation — that  is  to  say,  for  him, 
since  his  temperance  would  have  sent  nine  men  out  of 
ten  under  the  table — and  of  the  best.  He  had  indeed 
a  large  and  obstinate  dignity  in  his  drinking.  It  be- 
trayed, even  as  his  carriage  betrayed  beneath  his  old 
coat,  a  king  in  exile. 

Yet  while  he  pinched  himself  with  these  economies, 
he  drew  no  strings — or  drew  them  tenderly — upon  the 
expenses  and  charities  of  a  good  landlord.  The 
fences  rotted  around  his  own  park  and  pleasure 
grounds,  but  his  tenants'  fences,  walls,  roofs  stood  in 
more  than  moderate  repair,  nor  (although  my  uncle 
Gervase  groaned  over  the  accounts)  would  an  abate- 
ment of  rent  be  denied,  the  appeal  having  been 
weighed  and  found  to  be  reasonable.  The  rain — 
which  falls  alike  upon  the  just  and  the  unjust — beat 
through  his  own  roof,  but  never  through  the  labour- 
er's thatch;  and  Mrs.  Nance,  the  cook,  who  hated 
beggars,  might  not  without  art  and  secrecy  dismiss  a 
single  beggar  unfed.  His  religion  he  told  to  no  man, 
but  believed  the  practice  of  worship  to  be  good  for 
all  men,  and  regularly  encouraged  it  by  attending 
church  on  Sundays  and  festivals.  He  and  the  vicar 
ruled  our  parish  together  in  amity  as  fellow-Chris- 
tians and  rival  anglers. 

Now  all  these  apparent  contrarieties  in  my  father 
flowed  in  fact  from  a  very  rare  simplicity,  and  this 

4 


LINEAGE    AND    CONDITION 

simplicity  again  had  its  origin  in  his  lineage,  which 
was  something  more  than  royal. 

On  the  Cornish  shore  of  the  Tamar  River,  which 
divides  Cornwall  from  Devon,  and  a  little  above  Salt- 
ash,  stands  the  country  church  of  Landulph,  so  close 
by  the  water  that  the  high  tides  wash  by  its  grave- 
yard wall.  Within  the  church  you  will  find  a  mural 
tablet  of  brass  thus  inscribed  : 

Here  lyeth  the  body  of  Theodoro  Paleologvs 
of  Pesaro  in  Italye,  descended  from  y*  Imperyall 
lyne  of  y"  last  Christian  Emperors  of  Greece 
being  the  sonne  of  Camilio  y"  sone  of  Prosper 
the  Sonne  of  Theodoro  the  sonne  of  John  y* 
Sonne  of  Thomas  second  brother  to  Constantine 
Paleologvs,  the  8th  of  that  name  and  last  of  y'  lyne  y' 
raygned  in  Constantinople  vntill  svb- 
dewed  by  the  T\Tks  who  married  with  Mary 
y  davghter  of  William  Balls  of  Hadlye  in 
Svffolke  gent  &  had  issve  5  children  Theo- 
doro John  Ferdinando  Maria  &  Dorothy  &  de- 
p'ted  this  life  at  Clyfton  y*  21th  of  lanvary  1636 

Above  these  words  the  tablet  bears  an  eagle  en- 
graved with  two  heads,  and  its  talons  resting  upon 
two  gates  (of  Rome  and  Constantinople),  with  a 
crescent  for  difference  between  the  gates,  and  over 
all  an  imperial  crown.  In  truth  this  exile  buried  by 
Tamar  drew  his  blood  direct  from  the  loins  of  the 
great  Byzantine  emperors,  through  that  Thomas  of 
whom  Mahomet  II.  said  "  I  have  found  manv  slaves 

5 


SIR  JOHN  coxstanti:n'e 

in  Peloponnesus,  but  this  man  only " :  and  from 
Theodore,  through  his  second  son  John,  came  the 
Constantines  of  Constantine — albeit  with  a  bar  sinis- 
ter, of  which  my  father  made  small  account.  I  be- 
lieve he  held  privately  that  a  Constantine,  de  stirpe 
imperatorum,  had  no  call  to  concern  himself  with 
petty  ceremonies  of  this  or  that  of  the  Church's  off- 
shoots to  legitimise  his  blood.  At  any  rate  no  bar 
sinister  appeared  on  the  imperial  escutcheon  repeated, 
with  quarterings  of  Arundel,  Mohun,  Grenville,  ^N'e- 
vile,  Archdeckne,  Courtney,  and,  again,  Arundel,  on 
the  wainscots  and  in  the  windows  of  Constantine, 
usually  with  the  legend  Dahit  Devs  His  Qvoqve 
Finem,  but  twice  or  thrice  with  a  hopefuller  one, 
Generis  Revocemus  Honores. 

Knowing  him  to  be  thus  descended,  you  could  rec- 
ognise in  all  my  father  said  or  did  a  large  simplicity 
as  of  the  earlier  gods,  and  a  dignity  proper  to  a  king 
as  to  a  beggar,  but  to  no  third  and  mean  state.  A 
child  might  beard  him,  but  no  man  might  venture  a 
liberty  with  him  or  abide  the  rare  explosions  of  his 
anger.  You  might  even,  upon  long  acquaintance, 
take  him  for  a  great,  though  mad,  Englishman,  and 
trust  him  as  an  Englishman  to  the  end ;  but  the  soil 
of  his  nature  was  that  which  grows  the  vine — vol- 
canic, breathing  through  its  pores  a  hidden  heat  to 
answer  the  sun's.     Whether  or  no  there  be  in  man  a 

6 


LINEAGE    AND    CONDITION 

faith  to  remove  mountains,  there  is  in  him  (and  it 
may  come  to  the  same  thing)  a  fire  to  split  them,  and 
anon  to  clothe  the  bare  rock  with  tendrils  and  soft- 
scented  blooms. 

In  person  my  father  stood  six  feet  five  inches  tall, 
and  his  shoulders  filled  a  doorway.  His  head  was 
large  and  shapely,  and  he  carried  it  with  a  very  noble 
poise ;  his  face  a  fine  oval,  broad  across  the  brow  and 
ending  in  a  chin  at  once  delicate  and  masterful ;  his 
nose  slightly  aquiline;  his  hair — and  he  wore  his 
own,  tied  with  a  ribbon — of  a  shining  white.  His 
cheeks  were  hollow  and  would  have  been  cadaverous 
but  for  their  hue,  a  sanguine  brown,  well  tanned  by 
out-of-door  living.  His  eyes,  of  an  iron-grey  colour, 
were  fierce  or  gentle  as  you  took  him,  but  as  a  rule 
extraordinarily  gentle.  He  would  walk  you  thirty 
miles  any  day  without  fatigue,  and  shoot  you  a 
woodcock  against  any  man ;  but  as  an  angler  my 
uncle  Gervase  beat  him. 

He  spoke  Italian  as  readily  as  English ;  French 
and  the  modern  Greek  with  a  little  more  difficultv ; 
and  could  read  in  Greek,  Latin,  and  Spanish.  His 
books  were  the  "  Meditations  "  of  the  Emperor  Mar- 
cus Aurelius,  and  Dante's  "  Divine  Comedv,"  with 
the  "  ^neis,"  Ariosto,  and  some  old  Spanish  ro- 
mances next  in  order.  I  do  not  think  he  cared  greatly 
for  any  English  writers  but  Donne  and  Izaak  Walton, 

7 


SIE    JOHX    COXSTANTIXE 

of  whose  "  Angler  "  and  "  Life  of  Sir  Henry  Wot- 
ton  "  he  was  inordinately  fond.  In  particular  he 
admired  the  character  of  this  Sir  Henry  Wotton, 
singling  him  out  among  "  the  famous  nations  of  the 
dead"  (as  Sir  Thomas  Browne  calls  them)  for  a 
kind  of  posthumous  friendship — nay,  almost  a  pas- 
sion of  memory.  To  be  sure,  though  with  more  than 
a  hundred  vears  between  them,  both  had  been  bred  at 
Winchester,  and  both  had  known  courts  and  em- 
bassies and  retired  from  them  upon  entering  private 
life.  .  .  .  But  who  can  explain  friendship,  even 
after  all  the  essays  written  upon  it  ?  Certainly  j  be 
friends  with  a  dead  man  was  to  my  father  a  leat 
neither  impossible  nor  absurd. 

Yet  he  possessed  two  dear  living  friends  at  least  in 
my  uncle  Gervase  and  Mr.  Grylls,  and  had  even  dedi- 
cated a  temple  to  their  friendship.  It  stood  about 
half  a  mile  away  from  the  house,  at  the  foot  of  the 
old  deer  park :  a  small  Ionic  summer-house  set  on  a 
turfed  slope  facing  down  a  dell  upon  the  Helford 
River.  A  spring  of  water,  very  cold  and  pure,  rose 
bubbling  a  few  paces  from  the  porch  and  tumbled 
down  the  dell  with  a  pretty  chatter.  Tradition  said 
that  it  had  once  been  visited  and  blessed  by  St.  Alban, 
for  which  cause  my  father  called  his  summer-house 
by  the  saint's  name,  and  annually  on  his  festival 
(which  falls  on  the  22nd  of  June)  caused  wine  and 

8 


LINEAGE    AND    CONDITION 

dessert  to  be  carried  out  thither,  where  the  three  drank 

to  their  common  pastime  and  discoursed  of  it  in  the 

cool  of   the  evening  within  earshot  of  the  lapsing 

water.     On  many  other  evenings  they  met  to  smoke 

their  pipes  here,  my  father  and  Mr.  Grylls  playing 

at  chequers  sometimes,  while  my  uncle  wrapped  and 

bent,  till  the  light  failed  him,  new  trout  flies  for  the 

next  day's  sport ;  but  to  keep  St.  Alban's  feast  they 

never  omitted,  which  mv  father  commemorated  with 

a  tablet  set  against  the  back  wall  and  bearing  these 

Imes: 

■  '  Peace  to  this  house  within  this  little  wood, 

Named  of  S'  Alban  and  his  brotherhood 
That  here  would  meet  and  punctual  on  his  day 
Their  heads  and  hands  and  hearts  together  lay, 
Nor  may  no  years  the  mem'ries  thee  untwine 
Of  Grylls  W.  G.      'j 

"M 


And  Arundel  G.  A.      I-     Anno  1752 

And  Constantine        J.  C. 


Flvmina  amem  silvasqve  inglorivs. 

Of  these  two  friends  of  my  father  I  shall  speak  in 
their  proper  place,  but  have  given  up  this  first  chap- 
ter to  him  alone.  My  readers  maybe  will  grumble 
that  it  omits  to  tell  what  they  would  first  choose  to 
learn:  the  reason  why  he  had  exchanged  fame  and 
the  world  for  a  Cornish  exile.  But  as  yet  he  only — 
and  perhaps  my  uncle  Gervase,  who  kept  the  accounts 
— held  the  key  to  that  secret. 

9 


CHAPTER    II 

I    RIDE    ON    A    PILGRIMAGE 

Heus  Rogeref  jer  caballos; 
Eja,  nunc  eamus! 

At  Winchester,  which  we  boys  (though  we  fared 
hardly)  never  doubted  to  be  the  first  school  in  the 
world,  as  it  was  the  most  ancient  in  England,  we  had 
a  song  we  called  Domuni:  and  because  our  common 
pride  in  her — as  the  best  pride  will — belittled  itself 
in  speech,  I  trust  that  our  song  honoured  St.  Mary 
of  Winton  the  more  in  that  it  celebrated  only  the  joys 
of  leaving  her. 

The  tale  went,  it  had  been  composed  (in  Latin, 
too)  by  a  boy  detained  at  school  for  a  punishment 
during  the  summer  holidays.  Another  fable  im- 
proved on  this  by  chaining  him  to  a  tree.  A  third 
imprisoned  him  in  cloisters  whence,  through  the 
arcades  and  from  the  ossuaries  of  dead  scholars  and 
fellows,  he  poured  out  his  soul  to  the  swallows  haunt- 
ing the  green  garth — 

Jam  repetit  domum 
Daulias  advena, 
Nosque  domum  repetamus. 
10 


I    RIDE    ON    A    PILGRIMAGE 

Whatever  its  origin,  our  custom  was  to  sing  it  as 
the  holidays — especially  the  summer  holidays — drew 
near,  and  to  repeat  it  as  they  drew  nearer,  until  every 
voice  was  hoarse.  As  I  remember,  we  kept  up  this 
custom  with  no  decrease  of  fervour  through  the  heats 
of  June,  1755,  though  they  were  such  that  our  hosti- 
arius  Dr.  Warton,  then  a  new  broom,  swept  us  out  of 
school  and  for  a  fortnight  heard  our  books  (as  the  old 
practice  had  been)  in  cloisters,  where  we  sat  upon 
cool  stone  and  in  the  cool  airs,  and  between  our 
tasks  watched  the  swallows  at  play.  Nevertheless 
we  panted,  until  evening  released  us  to  wander 
forth  along  the  water-meadows  by  Itchen  and  bathe, 
and,  having  bathed,  to  lie  naked  amid  the  mints 
and  grasses  for  a  while  before  returning  in  the 
twilight. 

This  bathing  went  on,  not  in  one  or  two  great 
crowds,  but  in  groups,  and  often  in  pairs  only,  scat- 
tered along  the  river-bank  almost  all  the  way  to 
Hills;  it  being  our  custom  again  at  Winchester  (and 
I  believe  it  still  continues)  to  socius  or  walk  with 
one  companion ;  and  only  at  one  or  two  favoured 
pools  would  several  of  these  couples  meet  together 
for  the  sport.  On  the  evening  of  which  I  am  to  tell, 
my  companion  was  a  boy  named  Fiennes,  of  about  my 
own  age,  and  we  bathed  alone,  though  not  far  away 
to  right  and  left  the  bank  teemed  with  outcries  and 

11 


Sm    JOHN    COXSTANTINE 

laughter  and  naked  boys  running  all  silvery  as  their 
voices  in  the  dusk. 

With  all  this  uproar  the  trout  of  Itchen,  as  you 
may  suppose,  had  gone  into  hiding,  but  doubtless  some 
fine  fellows  lay  snug  under  the  stones,  and — the 
stream  running  shallow  after  the  heats — as  we 
stretched  ourselves  on  the  grass  Fiennes  challenged 
me  to  tickle  for  one ;  it  may  be  because  he  had  heard 
me  boast  of  my  angling  feats  at  home.  There  seemed 
a  likely  pool  under  the  farther  bank ;  convenient,  ex- 
cept that  to  take  up  the  best  position  beside  it  I  must 
get  the  level  sun  full  in  my  face.  I  crept  across, 
however,  Fiennes  keeping  silence,  laid  myself  flat  on 
my  belly,  and  peered  down  into  the  pool,  shading  my 
eyes  with  my  hand.  For  a  long  while  I  saw  no  fish, 
until  the  sun  rays,  striking  aslant,  touched  the  edge  of 
a  golden  fin  very  prettily  bestowed  in  a  hole  of  the 
bank  and  well  within  an  overlap  of  green  weed.  Now 
and  again  the  fin  quivered,  but  for  the  most  part  my 
gentleman  lay  quiet  as  a  stone,  head  to  stream,  and 
waited  for  relief  from  these  noisy  Wykehamists. 
Experience  perhaps  had  taught  him  to  despise  them : 
at  any  rate,  when  gently — very  gently — I  lowered  my 
hand  and  began  to  tickle,  he  showed  neither  alarm 
nor  resentment. 

"  Is  it  a  trout  ?  "  demanded  Fiennes  in  an  excited 
whisper  from  the  farther  shore.  But  of  course  I  made 

12 


I  RIDE  o:n^  a  pilgrimage 

no  answer,  and  presently  I  supposed  that  be  must 
have  crept  off  to  his  clothes,  for  some  way  up  the 
stream  I  heard  the  Second  Master's  voice  warning  the 
bathers  to  dress  and  return,  and  with  his  usual  for- 
mula, "  Ite  domum  saturoe,  venit  Hesperus,  ite  cap- 
ellcB."  Being  short-sighted,  he  missed  to  spy  me,  and 
I  felt,  rather  than  saw  or  beard,  him  pass  on ;  for 
with  one  hand  I  yet  shaded  my  eyes  while  with  the 
other  I  tickled. 

Yet  another  two  minutes  went  by,  and  then  with  a 
jerk  I  had  my  trout,  my  thumb  and  forefinger  deep 
under  his  gills ;  brought  down  my  other  clutch  upon 
him  and,  lif<-\ng,  flung  him  back  over  my  head 
among  the  meadow  grass,  my  posture  being  such 
that  I  could  neither  hold  him  struggling  nor  recover 
my  own  balance  save  by  rolling  sideways  over 
on  my  shoulder-pin;  which  I  did,  and,  running 
to  him  where  he  gleamed  and  doubled,  flipping  the 
grasses,  caught  him  in  both  hands  and  held  him 
aloft. 

But  other  voices  than  Fiennes'  answered  my  shout 
over  the  river — voices  that  I  knew,  though  they  be- 
longed not  to  this  hour  or  this  place;  and,  blinking 
against  the  sun,  now  shining  level  across  Lavender 
Meads,  I  was  aware  of  two  tall  flgures  standing  dark 
against  it,  and  of  a  third  and  shorter  one  between 
whose  legs  it  poured  in  gold  as  through  a  natural 

13 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTAXXmE 

arch.     Sure  no  second  man  in  England  wore  Billy 
Priske's  legs ! 

Then,  and  while  I  stood  amazed,  my  father's  voice 
and  my  uncle  Gervase's  called  to  me  together ;  and, 
gulping  down  all  wonder,  possessed  with  love  only  and 
a  wdld  joy — but  yet  grasping  my  fish — I  splashed 
across  the  shallows  and  up  the  bank,  and  let  my  father 
take  me  naked  to  his  heart. 

"  So,  lad,"  said  he  after  a  moment,  thrusting  me 
a  little  back  by  the  shoulders  (while  I  could  only 
sob),  and  holding  me  so  that  the  sun  fell  full  on  me, 
"  dost  truly  love  me  so  much  ?  " 

"  Clivver  boy,  clivver  boy !  "  said  the  voice  of  Billy 
Priske.  "  Lord,  now,  what  things  they  do  teach  here 
beside  the  Latin !  " 

The  rogue  said  it,  as  I  knew,  to  turn  my  father's 
suspicion,  having  himself  taught  me  the  poacher's 
trick.  But  my  uncle  Gervase,  whose  mind  moved 
as  slowly  as  it  was  easily  diverted,  answered  with 
gravity : 

"  It  is  hard  knowing  what  may  or  may  not  be  use- 
ful in  after-life,  seeing  that  God  in  His  wisdom  hides 
what  that  life  is  to  be." 

"  Very  true,"  agreed  my  father,  with  a  twinkle, 
and  took  snuff. 

"  But — but  what  brings  you  here  ?  "  cried  I,  with 
a  catch  of  the  breath,  ignoring  all  this. 

14 


I    RIDE    OX    A    PILGRIMAGE 

"  Nevertheless,  such  comely  lads  as  they  be,"  my 
imcle  continued,  "  God  will  doubtless  bring  them  to 
good.  Comelier  lads,  brother,  I  never  saw,  nor,  I 
think,  the  sun  never  shined  on ;  yet  there  was  one,  at 
the  bowls  yonder,  was  swearing  so  it  grieved  me  to  the 
heart." 

"  Put  on  your  clothes,  boy,"  said  my  father,  an- 
swering me.  "  We  have  ridden  far,  but  we  bring  no 
ill  news;  and  to-morrow — I  have  the  Head-master's 
leave  for  it — vou  ride  on  with  us  to  London." 

"  To  London !  "  My  heart  gave  another  great 
leap,  as  every  boy's  must  on  hearing  that  he  is  to  see 
London  for  the  first  time.  But  here  we  all  turned 
at  a  cry  from  Billy  Priske,  between  whose  planted 
ankles  Master  Eiennes  had  mischievously  crept  and 
was  measuring  the  span  between  with  extended  thumb 
and  little  finger.  My  father  stooped,  haled  him  to  his 
feet  by  the  collar,  and  demanded  what  he  did. 

"  Why,  sir,  *  he's  a  Colossus  '  !  "  quoted  that  nim- 
ble youth ; 

'"and  we  petty  men 
Walk  under  his  huge  legs  and  peer  about ' " 

"  '  And  will  find  yourself  a  dishonourable  grave,'  " 
my  father  capped  him.  "  What's  your  name, 
boy?" 

"  Fiennes,  sir ;  Xathaniel  Eiennes."  The  lad 
saluted. 

15 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

My  father  lifted  his  hat  in  answer.  "  Founder's 
kin  ?  " 

"  I  am  here  on  that  condition,  sir." 

"  Then  you  are  kinsman,  as  well  as  namesake,  of 
him  who  saved  our  Wykeham's  tomb  in  the  Parlia- 
ment troubles.  I  felicitate  you,  sir,  and  retract  my 
words,  for  by  that  action  of  your  kinsman's  shall  the 
graves  of  all  his  race  and  name  be  honoured." 

Young  Fiennes  bowed.  "  Compliments  fly,  sir, 
when  gentlemen  meet.  But " — and  he  glanced  over 
his  shoulder  and  rubbed  the  small  of  his  back  ex- 
pressively— "  as  a  Wykehamist,  you  will  not  have  me 
late  at  names-calling." 

"  Go,  boy,  and  answer  to  yours ;  they  can  call  no 
better  one."  My  father  dipped  a  hand  in  his  pocket. 
"  I  may  not  invite  you  to  breakfast  with  us  to- 
morrow, for  we  start  early ;  and  you  will  excuse  me 
if  I  sin  against  custom — it  was  esteemed  a  laudable 
practice  in  my  time."     A  gold  coin  passed. 

"  Et  in  scecula  swculo — o — rum.  Amen!"  Mas- 
ter Fiennes  spun  the  coin,  pocketed  it,  and  went  off 
whistling  schoolwards  over  the  meads. 

My  father  linked  his  arm  in  mine  and  we  followed, 
I  asking,  and  the  three  of  them  answering,  a  hundred 
questions  of  home.  But  why,  or  on  what  business, 
we  were  riding  to  London  on  the  morrow  my  father 
would  not  tell.     "  Nay,  lad,"  said  he,  "  take  your 

16 


I    HIDE    OX    A    PILGRIMAGE 

Bible  and  read  that  Isaac  asked  no  questions  on  the 
way  to  Mariah." 

My  uncle,  who  overheard  this,  considered  it  for  a 
while,  and  said :  "  The  difference  is  that  you  are  not 
going  to  sacrifice  Prosper." 

The  three  were  to  lie  that  night  at  the  Wheel  Inn, 
where  they  had  stabled  their  horses ;  and  at  the  door 
of  the  Head-master's  house,  where  we  Commoners 
lodged,  they  took  leave  of  me,  my  father  commending 
me  to  God  and  good  dreams.  That  they  were  happy 
ones  I  need  not  tell. 

He  was  up  and  abroad  early  next  morning,  in  time 
to  attend  chapel,  where  by  the  vigour  of  his  responses 
he  set  the  nearer  boys  tittering,  two  of  whom  I  after- 
wards fought  for  it,  though  with  what  result  I  can- 
not remember.  The  service,  which  we  urchins 
heeded  little,  left  him  pensive  as  we  walked  to- 
gether towards  the  inn,  and  he  paused  once  or  twice, 
with  eyes  downcast  on  the  cobbles,  and  muttered  to 
himself. 

"  I  am  striving  to  recollect  my  ^Morning  Lines, 
lad,"  he  confessed  at  length,  with  a  smile ;  "  and  thus, 
I  think,  they  go.  The  great  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  you 
have  heard  me  tell  of,  in  the  summer  before  his  death 
made  a  journey  hither  to  Winchester ;  and  as  he  re- 
turned towards  Eton  he  said  to  a  friend  that  went 
with  him :  '  How  useful  was  that  advice  of  an  old 

17 


SIPt    JOHX    COXSTAXTIXE 

monk  that  we  should  perform  oiir  devotions  in  a  con- 
stant place,  because  we  so  meet  again  with  the  very 
thoughts  which  possessed  us  at  our  last  being  there !  ' 
And,  as  Walton  tells,  '  I  find  it,'  he  said,  '  thus  far 
experimentally  true,  that  at  my  now  being  in  that 
school  and  seeing  that  very  place  where  I  sat  when 
I  was  a  boy  occasioned  me  to  remember  those  very 
thoughts  of  my  youth  which  then  possessed  me :  sweet 
thoughts  indeed  ' " 

Here  my  father  paused.  "  Let  me  be  careful,  now. 
I  should  be  perfect  in  the  words,  having  read  them 
more  than  a  hundred  times.  '  Sweet  thoughts  in- 
deed,' said  he,  '  that  promised  my  growing  years 
numerous  pleasures,  without  mixture  of  cares;  and 
those  to  be  enjoyed  when  time — which  I  therefore 
thought  slow-paced — had  changed  my  youth  into 
manhood.  But  age  and  experience  have  taught  me 
these  were  but  empty  hopes,  for  I  have  always  found 
it  true,  as  my  Saviour  did  foretell.  Sufficient  unto 
the  day  is  the  evil  thereof.  Xevertheless,  I  saw  there 
a  succession  of  boys  using  the  same  recreations,  and, 
questionless,  possessed  with  the  same  thoughts  that 
then  possessed  me.  Thus  one  generation  succeeds 
another,  both  in  their  lives,  recreations,  hopes,  fears, 
and  death.' 

"  But  I  would  not  have  you,  lad,"  he  went  on,  "  to 
pay  too  much  heed  to  these  thoughts,  which  will  come 

18 


T    RIDE    OX    A    PILGRIMAGE 

to  you  in  time,  for  as  yet  you  are  better  without  'em. 
Nor  were  they  my  only  thoughts :  for  having  brought 
back  my  own  sacrifice,  which  I  had  sometime  hoped 
might  be  so  great,  but  now  saw  to  be  so  little,  at  that 
moment  I  looked  down  to  your  place  in  chapel  and 
perceived  that  I  had  brought  belike  the  best  offering 
of  all.  So  my  hope — thank  God  ! — sprang  anew  as 
I  saw  you  there  standing  vigil  by  what  bright  ar- 
mour you  guessed  not,  nor  in  preparation  for  what 
high  warfare."  He  laid  a  hand  on  my  shoulder. 
"  So  your  chapel  to-day,  child,  has  been  the  longer 
by  a  sermon.  There,  there!  forget  all  but  the 
tail  on't." 

We  rode  out  of  Winchester  with  a  fine  clatter,  all 
four  of  us  upon  hired  nags,  the  Cornish  horses  being 
left  in  the  stables  to  rest;  and,  after  crossing  the 
Hog's  Back,  baited  at  Guildford.  A  thunderstorm 
in  the  night  had  cleared  the  weather,  which,  though 
fine,  was  cooler,  with  a  brisk  breeze  playing  on  the 
uplands;  and  still  as  we  went  my  spirits  sang  with 
the  larks  overhead,  so  blithe  was  it  to  be  sitting  in  a 
saddle  instead  of  at  a  scob,  and  riding  to  London 
between  the  blown  scents  of  hedgerow  and  havfield 
and  branfield,  all  fragrant  of  libertv  vet  none  of  them 
more  delicious  to  a  boy  than  the  mingled  smell  of 
leather  and  horseflesh,  Billy  Priske  kept  up  a  chat- 
ter beside  me  like  a  brook's.     He  had  never  till  now 

19 


SIR    JOHN    COXSTANTINE 

been  outside  of  Cornwall  but  in  a  fishing-boat,  and 
though  he  had  come  more  than  two  hundred  miles 
each  new  prospect  was  a  marvel  to  him.  My  father 
told  me  that,  once  across  the  Tamar  ferry,  being  told 
that  he  was  now  in  Devonshire,  he  had  sniffed  and 
observed  the  air  to  be  growing  "  fine  and  stuffy  " ; 
and  again,  near  Holt  Forest,  where  my  father  an- 
nounced that  we  were  crossing  the  border  between 
Hampshire  and  Surrey,  he  drew  rein  and  sat  for 
a  moment  looking  about  him  and  scratching  his 
head. 

''  The  Lord's  ways  be  past  finding  out,"  he  mur- 
mured.    "  Not  so  much  as  a  post !  " 

"  Why  should  there  be  a  post  ?  "  demanded  my 
uncle. 

"  Why,  sir,  for  the  men  of  Hampshire  and  the 
men  of  Surrey  to  fight  over  and  curse  one  another  by 
on  Ash  Wednesdays.  But  where  there's  no  land- 
mark a  plain  man  can't  remove  it,  and  where  he 
can't  remove  it  I  don't  see  how  he  can  be  cursed 
for  it." 

"  'Twould  be  a  great  inconvenience,  as  you  say, 
Billy,  if,  for  the  sake  of  argument,  the  men  of  Hamp- 
shire wanted  to  curse  the  men  of  Surrey." 

"  They  couldn't  do  it  "—Billy  shook  his  head— 
"  for  the  sake  of  argument  or  any  other  sake ;  and 
therefore  I  say,  though  not  one  to  dictate  to  the  Lord, 

20 


I    RIDE    ON    A    PILGRIMAGE 

that  if  a  river  can't  be  managed  hereabouts — and, 
these  two  not  being  Devon  and  Cornwall,  a  whole 
river  might  be  overdoing  things — there  ought  to  be 
some  little  matter  of  a  trout-stream,  or  at  the  least  a 
notice-board." 

"  The  fellow's  right,"  said  my  father.  "  Man 
would  tire  too  soon  of  his  natural  vices ;  so  we  in- 
vent new  ones  for  him  by  making  laws  and  bound- 
aries." 

"  Surely,  and  virtues  too,"  suggested  my  uncle,  as 
we  rode  forward  again.  "  You  will  not  deny  that 
patriotism  is  a  virtue  ?  " 

"  Not  I,"  said  my  father ;  "  nor  that  it  is  the  finest 
invention  of  all." 

I  remember  the  Hog's  Back  and  the  breeze  blow- 
ing there  because  on  the  highest  rise  we  came  on  a 
gibbet  and  rode  around  it  to  windward  on  the  broad 
heathery  margin  of  the  road ;  and  also  because  the 
sight  put  my  father  in  mind  of  a  story  which  he  nar- 
rated on  the  way  down  to  Guildford. 

The  Story  of  Our  Lady  of  the  Rosary 

"  It  is  told,"  began  my  father,  "  in  a  sermon  of  the 

famous  Vieyras " 

"  For  what  was  he  famous  ?  "  asked  my  uncle. 
"  For  being  a  priest,  and  yet  preaching  so  good  a 

21 


SIR  JOHX  coxsta:n"tine 

sermon  on  love.  It  is  told  in  it  that  in  the  kingdom 
of  Valencia  there  lived  an  hidalgo,  young  and  rich, 
who  fell  in  love  with  a  virtuous  lady,  ill  treated  by 
her  husband :  and  she  with  him,  howbeit  without  the 
least  thought  of  evil.  But,  as  evil  suspects  its  like, 
so  this  husband  doubted  the  fidelity  which  was  his 
without  his  deserving,  and  laid  a  plot  to  be  revenged. 
On  the  pretext  of  the  summer  heats  he  removed  with 
his  household  to  a  country  house ;  and  there  one  day 
he  entered  a  room  where  his  wife  sat  alone,  turned 
the  key,  and,  drawing  out  a  dagger,  ordered  her  to 
write  what  he  should  dictate.  She,  being  innocent, 
answered  him  that  there  was  no  need  of  daggers,  but 
she  would  write,  as  her  duty  was,  what  he  com- 
manded: which  was,  a  letter  to  the  young  hidalgo 
telling  him  that  her  husband  had  left  home  on  busi- 
ness; that  if  her  lover  would  come,  she  was  ready 
to  welcome  him ;  and  that,  if  he  came  secretly  the 
next  night,  he  would  find  the  garden  gate  open,  and 
a  ladder  placed  against  the  window.  This  she  wrote 
and  signed,  seeing  no  escape ;  and,  going  to  her  own 
room,  commended  her  fears  and  her  weakness  to  the 
Virgin. 

"  The  young  hidalgo,  on  receiving  the  letter  (very 
cautiously  delivered),  could  scarcely  believe  his  bliss, 
but  prepared,  as  you  will  guess,  to  embrace  it.  Hav- 
ing dressed  himself  with  care,  at  the  right  hour  he 

22 


I    RIDE    ON    A    PILGRIMAGE 

mounted  his  horse  and  rode  out  towards  his  lady's 
house.     Now  he  was  a  devout  youth,  as  youths  go, 
and  on  his  way  he  remembered — which  was  no  little 
thing  on  such  an  occasion — that  since  morning  he  had 
not  said  over  his  rosary  as  his  custom  was.     So  he 
began  to  tell  it  bead  by  bead,  when  a  voice  near  at 
hand  said,  '  Halt,  Cavalier !  '     He  drew  his  sword 
and  peered  around  him  in  the  darkness,  but  could  see 
no  one,  and  was  fumbling  his  rosary  again  when  again 
the  voice  spoke,  saying,  '  Look  up,  Cavalier !  '  and, 
looking  up,  he  beheld  against  the  night  a  row  of  way- 
side gibbets,  and  rode  in  among  them  to  discover  who 
had  called  him.    To  his  horror  one  of  the  malefactors 
hanging  there  spoke  down  to  him,  begging  to  be  cut 
loose ;  '  and,'  said  the  poor  wTetch,  '  if  you  will  light 
the  heap  of  twigs  at  your  feet  and  warm  me  by  it  your 
charity  shall  not  be  wasted.'     For  Christian  charity 
then  the  youth,  having  his  sword  ready,  cut  him  down, 
and  the  gallows  knave  fell  on  his  feet  and  warmed 
himself  at  the  lit  fire.     '  And  now,'  said  he,  being 
warmed,  '  you  must  take  me  up  behind  your  saddle ; 
for  there  is  a  plot  laid  to-night  from  which  only  I 
can  deliver  you.'    So  they  mounted  and  rode  together 
to  the  house,  where,  having  entered  the  garden  by 
stealth,  they  found  the  ladder  ready  set.    '  You  must 
let  me  climb  first,'  said  the  knave ;  and  had  no  sooner 
reached  the  ladder's  top  than  two  or  three  pistol  shots 

23 


SIR    JOHi^    CONSTANTIIs^E 

were  fired  upon  him  from  the  window  and  as  many 
hands  reached  out  and  stabbed  him  through  and 
through  until  he  dropped  into  the  ditch;  whence, 
however,  he  sprang  on  his  feet,  and,  catching  our 
hidalgo  by  the  arm,  hurried  him  back  through  the 
garden  to  the  gate  where  his  horse  stood  tethered. 
Then  they  mounted  and  rode  away  into  safety,  the 
dead  behind  the  living.  '  All  this  is  enchantment  to 
me,'  said  the  youth  as  they  went.  '  But  I  must  thank 
you,  my  friend;  for  whether  dead  or  alive — and  to 
my  thinking  you  must  be  doubly  dead — you  have  ren- 
dered me  a  great  service.'  '  You  may  say  a  mass  for 
me,  and  thank  you,'  the  dead  man  answered ;  '  but 
for  the  service  you  must  thank  the  Mother  of  God, 
who  commanded  me  and  gave  me  power  to  deliver 
you,  and  has  charged  me  to  tell  you  the  reason  of  her 
kindness :  which  is,  that  every  day  you  say  her 
rosary.'  '  I  do  thank  her  and  bless  her  then,'  replied 
the  youth,  '  and  henceforth  will  I  say  her  rosary  not 
once  daily  but  thrice,  for  that  she  hath  preserved  my 
life  to-night.'  " 

"  A  very  proper  resolution,"  said  my  uncle. 

"  And  I  hope,  sir,  he  kept  it,"  chimed  in  Billy 
Priske;   "  good  Protestant  though  I  be." 

"  The  story  is  not  ended,"  said  my  father.  "  The 
dead  man — they  were  dismounted  now  and  close 
under  the  gallows — looked  at  the  young  man  angrily 

24 


I    HIDE    ON    A    PILGRIMAGE 

and  said  he,  '  I  doubt  Our  Lady's  pains  be  wasted, 
after  all.  Is  it  possible,  sir,  you  think  she  sent  me 
to-night  to  save  your  life  ? '  '  For  what  else  ? '  in- 
quired the  youth.  '  To  save  your  soul,  sir,  and  your 
lady's;  both  of  which  (though  you  guessed  not  or 
forgot  it)  stood  in  jeopardy  just  now,  so  that  the  gate 
open  to  you  was  indeed  the  gate  of  Hell.  Pray  hang 
me  back  as  you  found  me,'  he  concluded,  '  and  go  your 
ways  for  a  fool.' 

"  Xow  see  what  happened.  The  murderers  in  the 
house,  coming  do\\Ti  to  bury  the  body  and  finding  it 
not,  understood  that  the  young  man  had  not  come 
alone;  from  which  they  reasoned  that  his  servants 
had  carried  him  off  and  would  publish  the  crime. 
They  therefore,  with  their  master,  hurriedly  fled  out 
of  the  country.  The  lady  betook  herself  to  a  religious 
house,  where  in  solitude  questioning  herself  she  found 
that  in  will,  albeit  not  in  act,  she  had  been  less  than 
faithful.  As  for  the  hidalgo,  he  rode  home  and  shut 
himself  within  doors,  whence  he  came  forth  in  a  few 
hours  as  a  man  from  a  sepulchre — which,  indeed,  to 
his  enemies  he  evidently  was  when  they  heard  that 
he  was  abroad  and  unliurt  whom  they  had  certainly 
stabbed  to  death ;  and  to  his  friends  almost  as  great 
a  marvel  when  they  perceived  the  alteration  of  his 
life;  and  to  himself  the  greatest  of  all,  who  alone 
knew  what  had  passed,  and  that,  as  by  enchantment 

25 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

his  life  had  taken  this  turn,  so  he  spent  its  remainder 
like  a  man  enchanted  rather  than  converted.  I  am 
told,"  my  father  concluded,  "  though  the  sermon  says 
nothing  about  it,  that  he  and  the  lady  came  in  the 
end,  and  as  by  an  accident,  to  be  buried  side  by  side, 
at  a  little  distance,  in  the  Chapel  of  Our  Lady  of 
Succour  in  the  cathedral  church  of  Valencia,  and 
there  lie  stretched — two  parallels  of  dust — to  meet 
only  at  the  Resurrection  when  the  desires  of  all  dust 
shall  be  purged  away." 

With  this  story  my  father  beguiled  the  road  down 
into  Guildford,  and  of  his  three  listeners  I  was  then 
the  least  attentive.  Years  afterwards,  as  you  shall 
learn,  I  had  reason  to  remember  it. 

At  Guildford,  where  Ave  fed  ourselves  and  our 
horses  and  rested  them  for  an  hour,  I  took  Billy 
aside  and  questioned  him  (forgetting  the  example  of 
Isaac)  why  we  were  going  to  London  and  on  what 
business.     He  shook  his  head. 

"  Squire  knows,"  said  he.  "  As  for  me,  a  still 
tongue  keeps  a  wise  head,  and  moreover  I  know  not. 
Bain't  it  enough  for  'ee  to  be  quit  of  school  and 
drinking  good  ale  in  the  kingdom  o'  Guildford? 
Very  well,  then." 

"  Still,  one  cannot  help  wondering,"  said  I,  half 
to  myself;  but  Billy  took  me  up. 

"  The  last  friend  a  man  should  want  to  take  up 

26 


I    RIDE    ON    A    PILGRIMAGE 

with  is  liis  Future/'  said  he,  sagely.  "  I  knows 
naught  about  en  but  what's  to  his  discredit — as  that 
I  shall  die  sooner  or  later,  a  thing  that  goes  against 
my  stomach ;  or  that  at  the  best  I  shall  grow  old, 
which  runs  counter  to  my  will.  lie's  that  uncom- 
fortable, too,  you  can't  please  him.  Take  him  hope- 
ful, and  you're  counting  your  chickens ;  take  him 
doleful,  and  foreboding  is  worse  than  witchcraft. 
There  was  a  Mevagissey  man  I  sailed  with  as  a  boy 
— and  your  father's  tale  just  now  put  me  in  mind 
of  him — paid  half-a-crown  to  a  conjurer,  one  time, 
to  have  his  fortune  told ;  which  was,  that  he  would 
marry  the  ugliest  maid  in  the  parish.  Whereby  it 
preyed  on  his  mind  till  he  hanged  hisself.  Whereby 
along  comes  the  woman  in  the  nick  o'  time,  cuts  him 
do^vn,  an'  marries  him  out  o'  pity  while  he's  too  weak 
to  resist.  That's  your  Future ;  and,  as  I  say,  I 
keeps  en  at  arm's  length." 

With  this  philosophy  of  Billy  I  had  to  be  content 
and  find  my  own  guesses  at  the  mystery.  But  as  the 
afternoon  wore  on  I  kept  no  hold  on  any  speculation 
for  more  than  a  few  minutes.  I  was  saddle-wearv, 
drowsed  with  sunburn  and  the  moving  landscape  over 
which  the  sun,  when  I  turned,  swam  in  a  haze  of  dust. 
The  villages  crowded  closer,  and  at  the  entry  of  each 
I  thought  London  was  come,  but  anon  the  houses 
thinned  and  dwindled  and  we  were  between  hedge- 

27 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTAXTINE 

rows  again.  So  it  lasted,  village  after  village,  until 
with  the  shut  of  night,  when  the  long  shadows  of 
our  horses  before  us  melted  into  dusk,  a  faint  glow 
opened  on  the  sky  ahead  and  grew  and  brightened. 
I  knew  it :  but  even  as  I  saluted  it  mj  chin  dropped 
forward  and  I  dozed.  In  a  dream  I  rode  through  the 
lighted  streets,  and  at  the  door  of  our  lodgings  my 
father  lifted  me  down  from  the  saddle. 


28 


CHAPTER    III 


I    ACQUIRE    A    KINGDOM 


Gloucester.  The  trick  of  that  voice  I  do  well  remember: 

Is't  not  the  king? 
Lear.  Ay,  every  inch  a  king. — King  Lear. 

Surely  he  hath  ruled  enough; 
Mark  the  leather  of  his  gauntlet,  how  the  worms  are  in  the  stuff. 

The  Two  Old  Kings. 

From  our  lodgings,  which  were  in  Bond  Street,  we 
sallied  forth  next  morning  to  view  the  to^vn;  my 
father  leading  lis  first  by  way  of  St.  James's  and 
across  the  Park  to  the  Abbey,  and  on  the  way  holding 
discourse  to  which  I  recalled  myself  with  difficulty 
from  London's  shows  and  wonders — his  Majesty's 
tall  guards  at  the  palace  gates,  the  gorgeous  prome- 
naders  in  the  Mall,  the  swans  and  wild  fowl  on  the 
lake.  "  I  wish  you  to  remark,  my  dear  child,"  said 
he,  "  that  between  a  capital  and  solitude  there  is  no 
third  choice;  nor,  I  would  add,  can  a  mind  extract 
the  best  of  solitude  unless  it  bring  urbanity  to  the 
wilderness.  Your  rustic  is  no  philosopher,  and  your 
provincial  townsman  is  the  devil :  if  you  would  medi- 
tate  in   Arden,  your  company  must  be  the   Duke, 

29 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

Jaqiies,  Touchstone — courtiers  all — or,  again,  Rosa- 
lind, the  Duke's  daughter,  if  you  would  catch  the 
very  mood  of  the  forest.  I  tell  you  this,  child,  that 
you  may  not  he  misled  by  my  example  (which  has  a 
reason  of  its  own  and,  I  trust,  an  excuse)  into  shun- 
ning your  destiny  though  it  lead  and  keep  you  in 
cities  and  among  crowds ;  for  we  have  it  on  the  word 
of  no  less  busy  a  man  than  the  Emperor  Marcus  Au- 
relius  that  to  seek  out  private  retiring-rooms  for  the 
soul  such  as  country  villages,  the  sea-shore,  moun- 
tains, is  but  a  mistaken  simplicity,  seeing  that  at 
what  time  soever  a  man  will  it  is  in  his  power  to 
retire  into  himself  and  be  at  rest,  dwelling  within 
the  walls  of  a  city  as  in  a  shepherd's  fold  of  the 
mountain.  So  also  the  sainted  Juan  du  Avila  tells 
us  that  a  man  who  trusts  in  God  may,  if  he  take 
pains,  recollect  God  in  streets  and  public  places  bet- 
ter than  will  a  hermit  in  his  cell ;  and  the  excellent 
Archbishop  of  Cambrai,  writing  to  the  Countess  of 
Gramont,  counselled  her  to  practise  recollection  and 
give  a  quiet  thought  to  God  at  dinner  times  in  a  lull 
of  the  conversation,  or,  again,  when  she  was  driving 
or  dressing  or  having  her  hair  arranged ;  these  hin- 
drances (said  he)  profited  more  than  any  engoument 
of  devotion. 

"  But,"  he  went  on,  "  to  bear  yourself  rightly  in 
a  crowd  you  must  study  how  one  crowd  differs  from 

'60 


I    ACQUIRE    A    KINGDOM 

another,  and  how  in  one  city  you  may  have  that  great 
orderly  movement  of  life  (whether  of  business  or  of 
pleasure)  which  is  the  surrounding  joy  of  princes  in 
their  palaces,  and  an  insensate  mob,  which  is  the  most 
brutal  and  at  the  same  time  the  vilest  aspect  of  man. 
For  as  in  a  thronged  street  you  may  learn  the  high 
meaning  of  citizenship,  so  in  a  mob  you  may  unlearn 
all  that  makes  a  man  dignified.  Yet  even  the  mob 
you  should  study  in  a  capital,  as  Shakespeare  did  in 
his  "  Julius  Csesar  "  and  his  "  Coriolanus  "  ;  for  only 
so  can  you  know  it  in  its  quiddity.  I  conjure  you, 
child,  to  get  your  sense  of  men  from  their  capital 
cities." 

He  had  something  to  tell  of  almost  every  great 
house  we  passed.  He  seemed — he  that  had  saluted 
no  one  as  w^e  crossed  the  Mall,  saluted  of  none — to 
walk  this  quarter  of  London  with  a  proprietary 
tread ;  and  by  and  by,  coming  to  the  river,  he  waved 
an  arm  and  broke  into  panegyric. 

"  Other  capitals  have  had  their  turn  and  others 
will  overtake  and  outstrip  her;  but  where  is  one  in 
these  times  to  compare  with  London  ?  Where  in 
Europe  will  you  see  streets  so  well  ordered,  squares 
so  spacious,  houses  so  comfortable,  yet  elegant,  as  in 
this  mile  east  and  south  of  Hvde  Park  ?  Where  such 
solid,  self-respecting  wealtli  as  in  our  City  ?  Where 
such  merchant-princes,  such  merchant-adventurers  as 

31 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

they  of  whom  Whittington  struck  the  note  ?  Where 
half  its  commerce  ?  and  where  a  commerce  touched 
with  one  tithe  of  its  imagination?  Where  such  a 
river,  for  trade  as  for  pageants?  On  what  other 
shore  two  buildings  side  by  side  so  famous,  the  one 
for  just  laws,  civil  security,  liberty  with  obedience, 
the  other  for  heroic  virtues  resumed,  with  their  prop- 
agating dust,  into  the  faith  which  sowed  all  and, 
having  reaped,  renews  ?  " 

In  the  Abbey — where  my  uncle  Gervase  was 
forced  to  withdraw  behind  a  pillar  and  rub  Billy 
Priske's  neck,  which  by  this  time  had  a  crick  in  it 
— my  father's  voice,  as  he  moved  from  tomb  to  tomb, 
deepened  to  a  regal  solemnity.  He  repeated  Beau- 
mont's great  lines : 

"Mortality,  behold  and  fear! 
What  a  change  of  flesh  is  here!" 

laying  a  hand  on  my  shoulder  the  while ;  and  in  the 
action  I  understood  that  this  and  all  his  previous  dis- 
course was  addressed  to  me  with  a  purpose,  and  that 
somehow  our  visit  to  London  had  to  do  with  that 
purpose. 

"Here  they  lie  had  realms  and  lands 
Who  now  want  strength  to  stir  their  hands; 
Where  from  their  pulpits  seal'd  with  dust 
They  preach  'In  greatness  is  no  trust'  .  .  . 
Here  are  sands,  ignoble  things, 
Dropt  from  the  ruin'd  sides  of  kings.  ..." 
32 


I    ACQUIRE    A    KINGDOM 

I  must  have  fallen  a-wondering  while  he  quoted 
in  a  low  sonorous  voice,  half  eager;  for  as  it 
ceased  I  came  to  myself  with  a  start  and  found 
his  eyes  searching  me ;  also  his  hold  on  my  shoulder 
had  stiffened,  and  he  held  me  from  him  at  arm's 
length. 

"  And  yet,"  said  he  as  if  to  himself,  "  this  dust  is 
the  strongest  man  can  build  with ;  and  we  must  build 
in  our  generation — quickly,  trusting  in  the  young, 
firm  flesh;  yes,  quickly — and  trusting — though  we 
know  what  its  end  must  be." 

These  last  words  he  muttered,  and  afterwards 
seemed  to  fall  into  a  meditation  which  lasted  until 
we  found  ourselves  outside  the  Abbey  and  in  the  light 
again. 

From  Westminster  we  took  boat  to  Blackfriars 
and,  landing  there,  walked  up  through  the  crowded 
traffic  to  a  gateway  opening  into  Clement's  Inn.  I 
did  not  know  its  name  at  the  time,  nor  did  I  regard 
the  place  as  we  entered,  being  yet  fascinated  with  the 
sight  of  Temple  Bar  and  of  the  heads  of  four  traitors 
above  it  on  poles,  blackening  in  the  sunshine ;  but 
within  the  courtyard  we  turned  to  the  right  and 
moimted  a  staircase  to  the  head  of  the  second  flight 
and  to  a  closed  door  on  which  my  father  knocked.  A 
clerk  opened,  and  presently  we  passed  through  an 
office  into  a  well-sized  room  where,  from  amid  a  pile 

33 


SIR    JOH^^    CONSTANTINE 

of  books,  a  grave  little  man  rose,  reached  for  his  wig 
and,  having  adjusted  it,  bowed  to  us. 

"Good  morning!  Good  morning,  gentlemen! 
Ah — er —     Sir  John  Constantine,  I  believe  ?  " 

My  father  bowed.  "  At  your  service,  Mr.  Knox. 
You  received  my  letter,  then  ?  Let  me  present  my 
brother-in-law  and  man  of  affairs,  Mr.  Gervase  Arun- 
del, who  will  discuss  with  you  the  main  part  of  our 
business;  also  my  son  here,  about  whom  I  wrote  to 
you." 

"Eh?  Eh?"  Mr.  Knox,  after  bowing  to  my 
uncle,  put  on  his  spectacles,  took  them  off,  wiped 
them,  put  them  on  again,  and  regarded  me  benevo- 
lently. "  Eh  ?  so  this  is  the  boy — h'm — Jasper,  I 
believe  ?  " 

"  Prosper,"  my  father  corrected. 

"  Ah,  to  be  sure — Prosper — and  I  hope  he  will, 
I'm  sure."  Mr.  Knox  chuckled  at  his  mild  little  wit- 
ticism and  twinkled  at  me  jocosely.  "  Your  letter. 
Sir  John  ?  Yes,  to  be  sure,  I  received  it,  and  what 
you  propose  is  practicable,  though  irregular." 

"  Irregular  ?  " 

"  Xot  legally  irregular — oh,  no,  not  in  the  least. 
Legally  the  thing's  as  simple  as  A  B  C.  The  man  has 
only  to  take  the  benefit  of  the  Act  of  Insolvency, 
assign  his  estate  to  his  creditors,  and  then — suppos- 
ing that  they  are  agreed " 

34 


I    ACQUIRE    A    KINGDOM 

"  There  can  be  no  question  of  their  agreement  or 
disagreement.  His  creditors  do  not  exist.  As  I  told 
you,  I  have  paid  them  off,  bought  up  all  their  debts, 
and  the  yes  or  no  rests  with  me  alone," 

"  Quite  so ;  I  was  merely  putting  it  as  the  Act 
directs.  Very  well  then,  supposing  you  agree,  noth- 
ing more  is  necessary  than  an  appearance — a  purely 
formal  appearance — at  the  Old  Bailey,  and  your  un- 
fortunate friend " 

"  Pardon  me,"  my  father  put  in ;  "  he  is  not  ray 
friend." 

"  Eh  ? "  .  .  .  Mr,  Knox  removed  his  spectacles, 
breathed  on  them,  and  rubbed  them,  while  he  re- 
garded my  father  with  a  bewildered  air.  "  You'll 
excuse  me  ,  .  .  but  I  must  own  myself  entirely  puz- 
zled. Even  for  a  friend's  sake,  as  I  was  about  to 
protest,  your  conduct,  sir,  would  be  Quixotic ;  yes, 
yes.  Quixotic  in  the  highest  degree,  the  amount  being 
(as  you  might  say)  princely,  and  the  security — " 
Mr.  Knox  paused  and  expressed  his  opinion  of  the 
security  by  a  pitying  smile,  "  But  if,"  he  resumed, 
"  this  man  be  not  even  vour  friend,  then,  mv  dear 
sir,  I  can  merely  wonder." 

For  a  moment  my  father  seemed  about  to  argue 
with  him,  but  checked  himself. 

"  None  the  less  the  man  is  very  far  from  being  my 
friend,"  he  answered  quietly, 

35 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

"  But  surely — surely,  sir,  you  cannot  be  doing 
this  in  any  hope  to  recover  what  he  already  owes  you  ! 
That  were  indeed  to  throw  the  helve  after  the  hatchet ; 
nay,  sir,  it  were  madness — stark  madness !  " 

My  father  glanced  at  my  uncle  Gervase,  who  stood 
pulling  his  lip ;  then  with  an  abrupt  motion  he  turned 
on  Mr.  Knox  again. 

"  You  have  seen  him  ?    You  delivered  my  letter  ?  " 

"  I  did." 

"  What  was  his  answer  ?  " 

Mr.  Knox  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  He  jumped 
at  it,  of  course." 

"  And  the  boy,  here  ?  What  did  he  say  about  the 
boy?" 

"  Well,  to  speak  truth.  Sir  John,  he  seemed  pass- 
ably amused  by  the  whole  business.  The  fact  is, 
prison  has  broken  him  up.  A  fine  figure  he  must 
have  been  in  his  time,  but  a  costly  one  to  maintain 
...  as  tall  as  yourself,  Sir  John,  if  not  taller ;  and 
florid,  as  one  may  say;  the  sort  of  man  that  must 
have  exercise  and  space  and  a  crowd  to  admire  him, 
not  to  mention  wine  and  meats  and  female  society. 
The  Fleet  has  broken  down  all  that.  Even  with 
liberty  I  wouldn't  promise  him  another  year  of  life ; 
and,  unless  I'm  mistaken,  he  knows  his  case.  A  rare 
actor,  too !  It  wouldn't  surprise  me  if  he'd  even  de- 
ceived himself.    But  the  mask's  off.    Your  offer  over- 

36 


I    ACQUIRE    A    KINGDOM 

joyed  him ;  that  goes  without  saying.  In  spite  of  all 
your  past  generosity  this  new  offer  obviously  struck 
him  for  the  moment  as  too  good  to  be  true.  But  I 
cannot  say,  Sir  John,  that  he  made  any  serious  effort 
to  keep  up  the  imposture  or  pretend  that  the  security 
which  alone  he  can  offer  is  more  than  a  sentimental 
one.  Not  to  put  too  fine  a  point  on  it,  he  ordered  in 
a  couple  of  bottles  of  wine  at  my  expense,  and  over 
the  second  I  left  him  laughing." 

My  father  frowned.  "  And  yet  this  man,  Mr. 
Knox,  is  an  anointed  king." 

"  Of  Corsica."  Mr.  Knox  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
"  You  may  take  my  word  for  it,  he's  an  anointed 
actor — or  was." 

"  One  can  visit  him,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  At  the  most  the  turnkey  will  expect  half  a  crown. 
Oh,  dear  me,  yes !  for  a  crowned  head  he's  accessible." 

My  father  took  me  by  the  arm.  "  Come  along 
then,  child.  And  you,  Gervase,  get  your  business 
through  with  Mr.  Knox  and  follow  us,  if  you  can,  in 
half  an  hour.  You  " — he  turned  to  Billy  Priske — 
"  had  best  come  with  us.  'Tis  possible  I  may  need 
you  all  as  witnesses." 

He  walked  me  out  and  downstairs  and  through 
the  lodge  gateway;  and  so  under  Temple  Bar  again 
and  down  Fleet  Street  through  the  throng;  till  near 
the  foot  of  it,  turning  up  a  side  street  out  of  the  noise, 

37 


SIK   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

we  found  ourselves  in  face  of  a  gateway  which  could 
only  belong  to  a  prison.  The  gate  itself  stood  open, 
but  the  passage  led  to  an  iron-barred  door,  and  in  the 
passage — which  was  cool  but  indescribably  noisome 
— a  couple  of  children  were  playing  marbles  with 
half  a  dozen  turnkeys  looking  on,  and  (I  believe) 
betting  on  the  game. 

My  father  sniifed  the  air  in  the  passage  and  turned 
to  me.  "  Gaol-fever,"  he  announced.  "  Please  God, 
child,  we  won't  be  in  it  long."  He  rescued  Billy 
from  the  two  urchins  who  had  dropped  their  game 
to  pinch  his  calves,  and  addressed  a  word  to  one  of 
the  turnkeys,  at  the  same  time  passing  a  coin.  The 
fellow  looked  at  it  and  touched  his  hat. 

"  Second  court,  first  floor,  number  thirty-seven." 
He  opened  a  wicket  in  the  gate.  "  This  way,  please, 
and  sharp  to  the  right." 

The  narrow  court  into  which  we  descended  by  a 
short  flight  of  steps  was,  as  I  remember,  empty ;  but, 
passing  under  an  archway  and  through  a  kind  of 
tunnel,  we  entered  a  larger  one  crowded  with  men, 
some  gathered  in  groups,  others  pacing  singly  and 
dejectedly,  the  most  of  them  slowly,  too,  with  bowed 
heads,  but  three  or  four  with  fierce  strides  as  if  in 
haste  to  keep  an  appointment.  One  of  them,  coming 
abreast  of  us  as  the  turnkey  led  us  off  to  a  staircase 
on  the  left,  halted,  drew  himself  up,  stared  at  us  for 

38 


I    ACQUIRE    A    KINGDOM 

a  moment  with  vacant  eyes,  and  hurried  by ;  yet 
before  we  mounted  the  stairs  I  saw  him  reach  the 
farther  wall,  wheel,  and  come  as  hastily  striding 
back. 

The  stairway  led  to  a  filthy  corridor,  pierced  on 
the  left  with  a  row  of  tiny  windows  looking  on  the 
first  and  empty  courtyard ;  and  on  the  right  with  a 
close  row  of  doors,  the  most  of  which  stood  open  and 
gave  glimpses  of  foul,  disordered  beds,  broken  meats, 
and  barred  windows  crusted  with  London  grime. 
The  smell  was  pestilential.  Our  turnkey  rapped  on 
one  of  the  closed  doors,  and  half-flung,  half-kicked 
it  open;  for  a  box  had  been  set  against  it  on  the 
inside. 

"  Visitors  for  the  Baron,"  he  announced,  and  stood 
aside  to  let  us  enter.  My  father  had  ordered  Billy 
to  wait  below.    We  two  passed  in  together. 

Now  my  father,  as  I  have  said,  was  a  tall  man; 
yet  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  figure  which  gi-eeted  us 
was  taller  as  it  rose  from  the  bed  and  stood  between 
us  and  the  barred  dirty  window.  By  little  and  little 
I  made  out  that  he  wore  an  orange-coloured  dressing- 
gown,  and  on  his  head  a  Turk's  fez;  that  he  had 
pushed  back  a  table  at  which,  seated  on  the  bed,  he 
had  been  writing;  and  that  on  the  sill  of  the  closed 
window  behind  him  stood  a  geranium-plant  dry  with 
dust  and  withering  in  the  stagnant  air  of  the  room. 

39 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTIXE 

But  as  yet,  since  he  stood  with  his  back  to  the  little 
light,  I  could  not  make  out  his  features.  I  marked, 
however,  that  he  shook  from  head  to  foot. 

My  father  bowed — a  very  reverent  and  stately  bow 
it  was  too — regarded  him  for  a  moment,  and,  taking 
a  pace  backward  to  the  door,  called  after  the  retreat- 
ing turnkey,  to  whom  he  addressed  some  order  in  a 
tone  to  me  inaudible. 

"  You  are  welcome,  Sir  John,"  said  the  prisoner 
as  my  father  faced  him  again ;  "  though  to  my  shame 
I  cannot  offer  you  hospitality."  He  said  it  in  Eng- 
lish, with  a  thick  and  almost  guttural  foreign  accent, 
and  his  voice  shook  over  the  words. 

''  I  have  made  bold,  sire,  to  order  the  remedy." 

"  ^  Sire !  '  "  the  prisoner  took  him  up  with  a  flash 
of  spirit.  "  You  have  many  rights  over  me.  Sir 
John,  but  none  to  mock  me,  I  think." 

"  As  you  have  no  right  to  hold  me  capable  of  it,  in 
such  a  place  as  this,"  answered  my  father.  "  I  ad- 
dressed you  in  terms  which  my  errand  proves  to  be 
sincere.     This  is  my  son  Prosper,  of  whom  I  wrote." 

"  To  be  sure — to  be  sure."  The  prisoner  turned  to 
me  and  looked  me  over — T  am  bound  to  say  with  no 
very  great  curiosity — and  sideways,  in  the  half-light, 
I  had  a  better  glimpse  of  his  features,  which  were 
bold  and  handsome  but  dreadfully  emaciated.  He 
seemed  to  lose  the  thread  of  his  speech,  and  his  hands 

40 


I    ACQUIKE    A    KINGDOM 

strayed  towards  the  table  as  if  in  search  of  something. 
"  Ah,  yes,  the  boy,"  said  he  vaguely. 

The  turnkey  entering  just  then  with  two  bottles  of 
•wine,  my  father  took  one  from  him  and  filled  an 
empty  glass  that  stood  on  the  table.  The  prisoner's 
fingers  closed  over  it. 

"  I  have  much  to  drown,"  he  explained  as,  having 
gulped  down  the  wine,  he  refilled  his  glass  at  once, 
knocking  the  bottle-neck  on  its  rim  in  his  clattering 
haste.  "  Excuse  me ;  you'll  find  another  glass  in  the 
cupboard  behind  you.  .  .  .  Yes,  yes,  we  were  talk- 
ing of  the  boy.  .  .  .  Are  you  filled  ?  .  .  .  We'll 
drink  to  his  health !  " 

"  To  your  health.  Prosper,"  said  my  father 
gravely,  and  drank. 

"  But,  look  here — I  had  your  letter  all  right,  and 
it  sounds  too  good  to  be  true.  Only  " — and  into  the 
man's  eyes  there  crept  a  sudden  cunning — "  I  don't 
understand  what  you  want  of  me." 

"  You  may  think  it  much  or  little ;  but  all  we  want 
— or,  rather,  all  my  boy  wants — is  your  blessing." 

"  So  I  gathered ;  and  that's  funny,  by  God !  My 
blessing — mine — and  here !  "  He  flung  out  a  hand. 
"  I've  had  some  strange  requests  in  my  time ;  but 
damn  me  if  I  reckoned  any  man  any  longer  wanted 
my  blessing." 

"  My  son  does,  though ;  and  even  such  a  blessing 

41 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

as  your  own  son  would  need,  if  you  had  one.  You 
understand  ?  " — for  the  prisoner's  eyes  had  wan- 
dered to  the  barred  window — "  I  mean  the  blessing 
of  Theodore  the  First." 

"  You  are  a  strange  fellow,  John  Constantine," 
was  the  answer,  in  a  weary,  almost  pettish  tone. 
"  God  knows  I  have  more  reason  to  be  grateful  to  you 
than  to  any  man  alive " 

"  But  you  find  it  hard  ?  Then  give  it  over.  You 
may  do  it  with  the  lighter  heart  since  gratitude  from 
you — did  I  ever  perceive  it — would  be  offensive  to 
me." 

"  If  you  played  for  this — worthless  prize  as  it  is 
— from  the  beginning " 

Again  my  father  took  him  up;  and,  this  time, 
sternly.  "  You  know  perfectly  well  that  I  never 
played  for  this  from  the  beginning;  nor  had  ever 
dreamed  of  it  while  there  was  a  chance  that  you — 
or  she — might  leave  a  child.  I  will  trouble  you — " 
My  father  checked  himself.  "  Your  pardon,  I  am 
speaking  roughly.  I  will  beg  you,  sire,  to  remember 
first  that  you  claimed  and  received  my  poor  help 
while  your  infant  daughter  lived,  while  there  was  yet 
a  likelihood  of  your  having  many  children,  before 
your  wife  left  you,  and  a  good  year  before  I  myself 
married  or  dreamed  of  marrying.  I  will  beg  you 
further  to  remember  that  no  payment  of  what  you 

42 


I    ACQUIRE    A    KINGDOM 

owed  to  me  was  ever  enforced,  and  that  the  creditors 
who  sent  you  and  have  kept  you  here  are  commercial 
persons  with  whom  I  had  nothing  to  do ;  whose  names 
until  the  other  day  were  strange  to  me.  Now  I  will 
admit  that  I  play  for  a  kingdom." 

"  You  really  think  it  worth  while  ?  "  The  pris- 
oner, who  had  stood  all  this  time  blinking  at  the 
window,  his  hands  in  the  pockets  of  his  dirty  dress- 
ing-gown, turned  again  to  question  him. 

"  I  do." 

"  But  listen  a  moment.  I  have  had  too  many  fa- 
vours from  you,  and  I  don't  want  another  under  false 
pretences.  You  may  call  it  a  too-late  repentance, 
but  the  fact  remains  that  I  don't.  Liberty  ?  " — he 
stretched  out  both  gaunt  arms,  far  beyond  the  sleeves 
of  his  gown,  till  they  seemed  to  measure  from  side 
to  side  of  the  room  and  to  thrust  its  walls  wide. 
"  Even  with  a  week  to  live  I  would  buy  it  dear — 
you  don't  know,  John  Constantine,  how  you  tempt 
me — but  not  at  that  price." 

"  Your  title  is  good.     I  will  take  the  risk." 

"  How  good  or  how  bad  my  title  is,  you  know. 
'Tis  the  inheritance  against  which  I  warn  you." 

"  I  take  the  risk,"  my  father  repeated,  "  if  you 
will  sign." 

The  prisoner  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  helped 
himself  to  another  glassful. 

43 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

"  We  must  have  witnesses,"  said  my  father. 
''  Have  you  a  clergyman  in  this  den  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure  we  have.  The  chaplain,  we  call  him. 
Figg — Jonathan  Figg's  his  name;  the  Reverend 
Jonathan  Figg,  B.A.,  of  Sidney  Sussex  College,  Cam- 
bridge ;  a  good  fellow  and  a  moderately  hard  drinker. 
He  spends  the  best  part  of  his  morning  marrying  up 
thieves  and  sailors  to  trulls ;  but  he's  usually  leaving 
church  about  this  time,  if  a  messenger  can  catch  him 
before  he's  off  to  breakfast  with  'em.  Half  an  hour 
hence  he'll  be  too  drunk  to  sign  his  name." 

"  Prosper  " — my  father  swung  round  on  me — 
"  run  you  down  to  Billy  and  take  him  off  to  search 
for  this  clergyman.  If  on  your  way  you  meet  with 
your  uncle  and  Mr.  Knox,  say  that  we  shall  require 
them,  too,  as  witnesses." 

I  ran  down  to  the  courtyard,  but  no  Billy  could  I 
see ;  only  the  dejected  groups  of  prisoners,  and  among 
them  the  one  I  had  marked  before,  still  fiercely  strid- 
ing, and  still,  at  the  wall,  returning  upon  his  track. 
I  hurried  out  to  the  gate,  and  there,  to  my  amaze- 
ment, found  Billy  in  the  clutches  of  a  strapping  im- 
pudent wench  and  surrounded  by  a  ring  of  turnkeys, 
who  were  splitting  their  sides  with  laughter. 

"  I  won't !  "  he  was  crying.  "  I'm  a  married  man, 
I  tell  'ee,  and  the  father  of  twelve !  " 

"  Oh,  Billy !  "  I  cried,  aghast  at  the  lie. 

44 


I    ACQUIRE    A    KINGDOM 

"  There  was  no  other  way,  lad.  For  the  Lord's 
sake  fetch  Squire  to  deliver  me !  " 

Before  I  could  answer  or  ask  what  was  happening, 
the  damsel  rounded  on  me. 

"  Boy,"  she  demanded,  "  is  this  man  deceiving 
me?" 

"  As  for  that,  ma'am,"  I  answered,  "  I  cannot  say. 
But  that  he's  a  bachelor  I  believe ;  and  that  he  hates 
women  I  have  his  word  over  and  over." 

"  Then  he  shall  marry  me  or  fight  me,"  she  an- 
swered very  coolly,  and  began  to  strip  off  her  short 
bodice. 

"  There's  twelve  o'clock,"  announced  one  of  the 
turnkeys  as  the  first  stroke  sounded  from  the  clock 
above  us  over  the  prison  gateway.  "  Too  late  to  be 
married  to-day ;  so  a  fight  it  is." 

"  A  ring !  a  ring !  "  cried  the  others. 

I  looked  in  Billy's  face,  and  in  all  my  life  (as  I 
have  since  often  reminded  him)  I  never  saw  a  man 
worse  scared.  The  woman  had  actually  thrown  off 
her  jacket  and  stood  up  in  a  loose  under-bodice  that 
left  her  arms  free — and  exceedingly  red  and  brawny 
arms  they  were.  How  he  had  come  into  this  plight 
I  could  guess  as  little  as  what  the  issue  was  like  to 
be,  when  in  the  gateway  there  appeared  my  uncle  and 
Mr.  Knox,  and  close  at  their  heels  a  rabble  of  men 
and  women  arm-in-arm,  headed  by  a  red-nosed  clergy- 

45 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

man  with  an  immense  white  favour  pinned  to  his 
breast. 

"Hey?  What's  to  do — what's  to  do?"  inquired 
Mr.  Knox. 

The  clergyman  thrust  past  him  with  a  "  Par- 
don me,  sir,"  and  addressed  the  woman.  "  What's 
the  matter,  Nan  ?  Is  the  bridegroom  fighting 
shy  ?  " 

"  Please  your  reverence,  he  tells  me  he's  the  father 
of  twelve." 

"  H'm."  The  priest  cocked  his  head  on  one  side. 
"  You  find  that  an  impediment  ?  " 

"  And  a  married  man,  your  reverence." 

"  Then  he  has  the  laughing  side  of  you,  this  time," 
said  his  reverence  promptly,  and  took  snuff.  "  Tut, 
tut,  woman — down  with  your  fists,  button  up  your 
bodice,  and  take  disappointment  with  a  better  grace. 
Come,  no  nonsense,  or  you'll  start  me  asking  what's 
become  of  the  last  man  I  married  ye  to." 

"  Sir,"  interposed  my  uncle,  "  I  know  not  the  head 
or  tail  of  this  quarrel.  But  this  man  Priske  is  my 
brother's  servant,  and  if  he  told  the  lady  what  she 
alleges,  for  the  credit  of  the  family  I  must  correct 
him.  In  sober  truth  he's  a  bachelor  and  no  more  the 
father  of  twelve  than  I  am." 

This  address,  delivered  with  entire  simplicity,  set 
the  whole  company  gasping.     Most  of  all  it  seemed 

46 


I    ACQUIRE    A    KTXGDOM 

to  astonish  the  woman,  who  could  not  be  expected  to 
know  that  my  uncle's  chivalry  accepted  all  her  sex, 
the  lowest  with  the  highest,  in  the  image  in  which 
God  made  it  and  without  defacement. 

The  priest  was  the  first  to  recover  himself.  "  Mj 
good  sir,"  said  he,  "  your  man  may  be  the  father  of 
twelve  or  the  father  of  lies,  but  I'll  not  marry  him 
after  stroke  of  noon,  for  that's  my  rule.  Moreover  " 
— he  swept  a  hand  towards  the  bridal  party  behind 
him — "  these  turtles  have  invited  me  to  eat  roast 
duck  and  green  peas  with  'em,  and  I  hate  my  gravy 
cold." 

"  Ay,  sir  ?  "  asked  my  uncle.  "  Do  you  tell  me 
that  folks  marry  and  give  in  marriage  wathin  this 
dreadful  place  ?  " 

"  Now  and  then,  sir ;  and  in  the  liberties  and  pur- 
lieus thereof  with  a  readiness  that  would  astonish 
you ;  which,  since  I  cannot  hinder  it,  I  sanctify.  My 
name  is  Figg,  sir — Jonathan  Figg;  and  my  office 
Chaplain  of  the  Fleet." 

"  And,  if  it  please  you,  sir,"  I  put  in,  "  my  father 
lias  sent  me  in  search  of  you,  to  request  that  you  will 
come  to  him  at  once." 

"  And  you  have  heard  me  say,  young  sir,  that  I 
marry  no  man  after  stroke  of  noon ;  no,  nor  will  visit 
him  sick  unless  he  be  in  articulo  mortis." 

"  But  my  father  neither  wants  to  be  married,  sir, 

47 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

nor  is  he  sick  at  all.  I  believe  it  is  some  matter  of 
witnessing  an  oath." 

"  Hath  he  better  than  roast  duck  and  green  peas 
to  offer,  hey  ?  ISTo  ?  Then  tell  him  he  may  come  and 
witness  my  oath,  that  I'll  see  him  first  to  Jericho." 

"  Whereby,  if  I  mistake  not,"  said  Mr.  Knox 
quietly,  "  your  pocket  will  continue  light  of  two 
guineas ;  and  I  may  add,  from  Avhat  I  know  of  Sir 
John  Constantine,  that  he  is  quite  capable,  if  he  re- 
ceive such  an  answer,  of  having  your  blood  in  a 
bottle." 

"  '  Sir  John  Constantine  ? '  did  I  hear  you  say. 
'  Sir  John  Constantine  ? '  "  queried  the  Reverend  Mr. 
Figg  with  a  complete  change  of  manner.  "  That's 
quite  another  thing!  Anything  to  oblige  Sir  John 
Constantine,  I'm  sure " 

"  Do  you  know  him  ?  "  asked  my  uncle. 

"  Well — er — no ;  I  can't  honestly  declare  that  I 
Tcnow  him ;  but,  of  course,  one  knows  of  him — that  is 
to  say,  I  understand  him  to  be  a  gentleman  of  title ; 
a  knight  at  least." 

"  Yes,"  my  uncle  answered,  "  he  is  at  least  that. 
What  a  very  extraordinary  person !  "  he  added  in  a 
wondering  aside,  which  I  caught,  though  he  had  in- 
tended it  for  Mr.  Knox  alone. 

Oddly  enough,  as  we  were  leaving,  I  heard 
the  woman  Nan  say  pretty  much  the  same  of  my 

48 


I    ACQUIKE    A    KINGDOM 

uncle.     She  added  that  she  had  a  great  mind  to  kiss 
him. 

We  found  my  father  and  the  prisoner  seated,  with 
the  bottle  between  them  on  the  rickety  liquor-stained 
table.  Yet — as  I  remember  the  scene  now — not  all 
the  squalor  of  the  room  could  efface  or  diminish  the 
majesty  of  their  two  figures.  They  sat  like  two  tall 
old  kings,  eye  to  eye,  not  friends,  or  made  friends 
only  in  this  last  and  lonely  hour,  meditating  man's 
common  fate.  If  I  cannot  make  you  understand  this, 
what  follows  will  seem  to  you  absurd,  though  indeed 
at  the  time  it  was  not  so. 

My  father  rose  as  we  entered.  "  Here  is  the  boy 
returned,"  said  he ;  "  and  the  witnesses  also  if  it 
please  you." 

The  prisoner  rose  also.  "  I  did  not  catch  his  name, 
or  else  I  have  forgotten  it,"  he  said,  fixing  his  eyes 
on  me  and  motioning  me  to  step  forward;  which  I 
did.  His  eyes — which  before  had  seemed  to  me 
shifty — were  straight  now  and  commanding,  yet 
benevolent. 

"  His  name  is  Prosper ;  in  full,  John  Prosper  Ca- 
milio  Paleologus.  Never  more  than  one  of  us  bears 
the  surname  of  Constantine,  and  he  not  until  he  suc- 
ceeds as  head  of  our  house." 

"  One  name  is  enough  for  a  king."  The  prisoner 
motioned  again  with  his  hand. 

49 


SIR    JOHN    COXSTAXTIXE 

'^  Kneel,  boy,"  my  father  commanded,  and  I  knelt. 

"  I  ask  you,  gentlemen,"  said  the  prisoner,  facing 
them  and  lifting  his  voice,  "  to  hear  and  remember 
what  I  shall  say;  to  witness  and  remember  what  I 
shall  do;  and  by  signature  to  attest  what  I  shall 
presently  write.  I  say,  then,  that  I,  Theodore,  was 
on  the  fifteenth  of  April,  twenty  years  ago,  by  the 
united  voice  of  the  people  of  Corsica,  made  King  of 
that  island  and  placed  in  possession  of  its  revenues 
and  chief  dignities.  I  declare,  as  God  may  punish 
me  if  I  lie,  that  by  no  act  of  mine  or  of  my  people  of 
Corsica  has  that  election  been  annulled,  forfeited,  or 
invalidated;  that  its  revenues  are  to-day  rightfully 
mine  to  receive  and  bequeath,  as  its  dignities  are  to- 
day rightfully  mine  to  enjoy  or  abdicate  to  an  heir 
of  my  own  choosing.  I  declare  further  that,  failing 
male  issue  of  my  own  body,  I  resign  herewith  and  ab- 
dicate both  rank  and  revenue  in  favour  of  this  boy, 
Prosper  Paleologus,  son  of  Constantino,  and  heir  in 
descent  of  Constantino,  last  Emperor  of  Constanti- 
nople. I  lay  my  hands  on  him  in  your  presence  and 
bless  him.  In  your  presence  I  raise  him  and  salute 
him  on  both  cheeks,  naming  him  my  son  of  choice  and 
my  successor.  Prosper  I.,  King  of  the  Commonwealth 
of  Corsica.  I  call  on  you  all  to  attest  this  act  with 
your  names,  and  all  necessary  writings  confirming  it ; 
and  I  beseech  you  all  to  pray  with  me  that  he  may 

50 


I    ACQUIRE    A    KIXGDO^^r 

come  to  the  full  inheritance  of  his  kingdom,  and 
thrive  therein  as  he  shall  justly  and  righteously  ad- 
minister it.     God  save  King  Prosper !  " 

At  the  conclusion  of  this  speech,  admirably  deliv- 
ered, I — standing  with  bent  head  as  he  had  raised 
me,  and  with  both  cheeks  tingling  from  his  salutation 
— heard  my  father's  voice  say  sonorously  "  Amen !  " 
and  another — I  think  the  parson's — break  into  some- 
thing like  a  chuckle.  But  my  uncle  must  have  put 
out  a  hand  threatening  his  weasand,  for  the  sound 
very  suddenly  gave  place  to  silence;  and  the  next 
voice  I  heard  was  Mr.  Knox's. 

"  May  I  suggest  that  we  seat  ourselves  and  ex- 
amine the  papers  ?  "  said  Mr.  Knox. 

"  One  moment."  King  Theodore  stepped  to  the 
cupboard  and  drew  out  a  bundle  in  a  blue-and-white 
checked  kerchief,  and  a  smaller  one  in  brown  paper. 
The  kerchief,  having  been  laid  on  the  table  and  un- 
wrapped, disclosed  a  fantastic  piece  of  ironwork  in 
the  shape  of  a  crown,  set  with  stones  of  which  the  pre- 
ciousness  was  concealed  by  a  plentiful  layer  of  dust. 
He  lifted  this,  set  it  on  my  head  for  a  moment,  and, 
replacing  it  on  the  table,  took  up  the  brown  paper 
parcel. 

"  This,"  said  he,  ''  contains  the  Great  Seal.  To 
whose  keeping  " — he  turned  to  my  father — "  am  I 
to  entrust  them,  Sir  John  ?  " 

51 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTAXTIXE 

My  father  nodded  towards  Billy  Priske,  who 
stepped  forward  and  tucked  both  parcels  under  his 
arm,  while  Mr.  Knox  spread  his  papers  on  the  table. 

•  •  •  •  • 

We  walked  back  to  oiir  lodgings  that  afternoon 
with  Billy  Priske  behind  us,  bearing  in  his  pocket 
the  Great  Seal,  and  under  his  arm,  in  a  checked  ker- 
chief, the  Iron  Crown  of  Corsica. 

Two  mornings  later  we  took  horse  and  set  our 
faces  westward  again ;  and  thus  ended  my  brief  first 
visit  to  London.  Billy  Priske  carried  the  sacred  par- 
cel on  the  saddle  before  him ;  and  my  uncle,  riding 
beside  him,  spent  no  small  part  of  the  way  in  an  ex- 
hortation against  lying  in  general,  and  particularly 
against  the  sin  of  laying  false  claim  to  the  paternity 
of  twelve  children. 

Now,  so  shaken  was  Billy  by  his  one  adventure  in 
London  that  until  we  had  passed  the  tenth  milestone 
he  seemed  content  enough  to  be  rated.  I  believe  that 
as,  for  the  remainder  of  his  stay  in  London,  he  had 
never  strayed  beyond  sight,  so  even  yet  he  took  com- 
fort and  security  from  my  uncle's  voice ;  "  since  " 
(said  he,  quoting  a  Cornish  proverb)  "  'tis  better  be 
rated  by  your  own  than  mated  with  a  stranger." 
But,  by  and  by,  taking  courage  to  protest  that  a  lie 
might  on  occasion  be  pardonable  and  even  necessary, 
he  drew  my  father  into  the  discussion. 

52 


I    ACQUIRE    A    KINGDOM 

"  This  difficulty  of  Billy's,"  interposed  my  father, 
"  was  in  some  sort  anticipated  by  Plato,  who  in- 
stanced that  a  madman  with  a  knife  in  his  hand 
might  inquire  of  you  to  direct  him  which  way  had 
been  taken  by  the  victim  he  proposed  to  murder.  He 
posits  it  as  a  nice  point.  Should  one  answer  truth- 
fully, or  deceive  ?  " 

"  The  villain !  I  should  knock  him  down,"  an- 
swered my  uncle  with  heat. 


53 


CHAPTER    IV 

THE    MESSAGE    OF    THE    SILENT    MEN" 

We  be  all  poor  mariners, 

Pardonnez  nioy,  je  vous  en  prie. — Old  Song. 

A  HISTORY  (you  will  say)  which  finds  a  schoolboy 
tickling  trout,  and  by  the  end  of  another  chapter  has 
clapped  a  crown  on  his  head  and  hailed  him  sovereign 
over  a  people  of  whom  he  has  scarcely  heard  and 
knows  nothing  save  that  they  are  warlike  and  ex- 
tremely hot-tempered,  should  be  in  a  fair  way  to 
move  ahead  briskly.  Nevertheless  I  shall  pass  over 
the  first  two  years  of  the  reign  of  King  Prosper,  dur- 
ing which  he  stayed  at  school  and  performed  nothing 
worthy  of  mention ;  and  shall  come  to  a  summer's 
afternoon  at  Oxford,  close  upon  the  end  of  term, 
when  Nat  Fiennes  and  I  sat  together  in  my  rooms 
in  New  College — he,  curled  on  the  window-seat  with 
a  book,  and  I  stretched  in  an  easy  chair  by  the  fire- 
place, and  deep  in  a  news  sheet. 

"  By  the  way,  Nat,"  said  I,  looking  up  as  I  turned 
the  page,  "  where  will  you  spend  your  vacation  ?  " 

A  groan  answered  me. 

"  Hullo !  "  I  went  on,  making  a  hasty  guess  at  his 

54 


MESSAGE    OF    THE    SILENT    MEN 

case.  "  Has  the  little  cordwainer's  tall  daughter 
jilted  you,  as  I  promised  she  would  ?  " 

"  A  curse  on  this  age !  "  swore  Nat,  who  ever  car- 
ried his  heart  on  his  sleeve. 

I  began  to  hum : 

"  I  loved  a  lass,  a  fair  one, 

As  fair  as  e'er  was  seen; 
She  was  indeed  a  rare  one, 

Another  Sheba  queen. 
Her  w^aist  exceeding  small, 

The  fives  did  fit  her  shoe; 
But  now,  alas!  sh'  'as  left  me, 

Falero,  lero,  loo!" 

"  Curse  the  age !  "  repeated  Nat  viciously.  "  If 
these  were  Lancelot's  days  now,  a  man  could  run 
mad  in  the  forest  and  lie  naked  and  chew  sticks ;  and 
then  she'd  be  sorry." 

"In  summer  time  to  Medley 
My  love  and  I  would  go ; 
The  boatman  there  stood  read'ly 
My  love  and  me  to  row," 

sang  I,  and  ducked  my  head  to  avoid  the  cushion  he 
hurled  at  me.  '"  Well,  then,  there's  very  pretty  forest 
land  around  my  home  in  Cornwall,  with  undergrowth 
and  dropped  twigs  to  last  you  till  Michaelmas  term. 
So  why  not  ride  down  Avith  me  and  spend  at  least 
the  forepart  of  your  madness  there  ?  " 
"  I  hate  vour  Cornwall." 

55 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 


<l  >r 


'Tis  a  poor  rugged  land,"  said  I ;  "  but  hath  this 
convenience  above  your  own  home,  that  it  contains 
no  nymphs  to  which  you  have  yet  sworn  passion. 
You  may  meet  ours  with  a  straight  brow ;  and  they 
are  fair,  too,  and  unembarrassed,  though  I  won't 
warrant  them  if  you  run  bare." 

"  'Tis  never  I  that  am  inconstant." 

"  Never,  Nat ;  'tis  she  always  and  only — '  she,  she, 
and  only  she  ' — and  there  have  been  six  of  her  to  my 
knowledge." 

"  If  I  were  a  king,  now " 

"  T'cht !  "  said  I  (for  as  my  best  friend,  and  al- 
most my  sole  one,  he  knew  my  story). 

"  If  a  fellow  were  a  king  now — instead  of  being 
doomed  to  the  law — oh,  good  Lord !  " 

"  You  are  incoherent,  dear  lad,"  said  I ;  "  and  yet 
you  tell  me  one  thing  plainly  enough ;  which  is  that 
in  place  of  loving  this  one  or  that  one,  or  the  cord- 
wainer's  strapping  daughter,  you  are  in  love  with 
being  in  love." 

"  Well,  and  why  not  ?  "  he  demanded.  "  Were  I 
a  king,  now",  that  is  even  what  I  would  be — in  love 
with  being  in  love.  Were  I  a  king,  now,  so  deep  in 
love  were  I  with  being  in  love,  that  my  messengers 
should  compass  earth  to  fetch  me  the  right  princess. 
Yes,  and  could  they  not  reach  to  her,  if  I  but  heard  of 
one  hidden  and  afar  that  was  worth  mv  levins:,   I 

56 


MESSAGE    OF    THE    SILEXT    MEN 

would  build  ships  and  launch  them,  enlist  crews  and 
armies,  sail  all  seas  and  challenge  all  wars,  to  win 
her.  If  I  were  king,  now,  my  love  should  dwell  in 
the  fastnesses  of  the  mountains,  and  I  would  reach 
her;  she  should  drive  me  to  turn  again  and  gather 
the  bones  of  the  seamen  I  had  dropi^ed  overboard,  and 
I  would  turn  and  dredge  the  seas  for  them;  for  a 
whim  she  should  demand  to  watch  me  at  the  task, 
and  gangs  of  slaves  should  level  mountains  to  open 
a  prospect  from  her  window;  nay,  all  this  while  she 
should  deny  me  sight  of  her,  and  I  would  embrace 
that  last  hardship  that  in  the  end  she  might  be  the 
dearer  prize,  a  queen  worthy  to  sit  beside.  Man, 
heave  your  great  lubberly  bones  out  of  that  chair  and 
salute  a  poor  devil  whom,  as  you  put  it,  a  cord- 
wainer's  daughter  has  jilted." 

"  IIullo !  "  cried  T,  who  had  turned  from  his  rhap- 
sody to  con  the  news  again,  and  on  the  instant  had 
been  caught  by  a  familiar  name  at  the  foot  of  the 
page. 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Why,"  said  I,  reading,  "  it  seems  that  you  are 
not  the  only  such  madman  as  you  have  just  pro- 
claimed yourself.  Listen  to  this :  it  is  headed  '  Fal- 
mouth.' 

"  '  A  Gentleman,  having  read  that  the  Methodist  Preachers 
are  to  pay  a  visit  to  Falmouth,  Cornwall,  on  the  16th,  17th, 

57 


SIR    JOHN    COXSTANTINE 

and  18th  of  next  month;  and  that  on  the  occasion  of  their 
last  visit  certain  women,  their  sympathisers,  were  set  upon 
and  brutally  handled  by  the  mob;  hereby  announces  that  he 
will  be  present  on  the  IMarket  Strand,  Falmouth,  on  these 
dates,  with  intent  to  put  a  stop  to  such  behaviour,  and  in- 
vites any  who  share  his  indignation  to  meet  him  there  and 
help  to  see  fair  play.  The  badge  to  be  a  red  rose  pinned  in 
the  hat. 

(Signed)  Eugenic' 

"  What  think  you  of  that  ?  "  I  asked,  without  turn- 
ing mj  head. 

"  The  newspaper  comes  from  Cornwall  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  From  Falmouth  itself.  My  father  sent  it.  .  .  . 
Jove !  "  I  cried  after  a  moment,  "  I  wonder  if  he's 
answerable  for  this  ?  'T would  be  like  his  extrava- 
gance." 

"  A  pity  but  what  you  inherited  some  of  it,  then," 
said  Nat  crossly. 

"  Tell  you  what,  Nat " — I  slewed  about  in  my 
chair — "  come  you  down  to  Cornwall  and  we'll  stick 
each  a  rose  in  our  hats  and  help  this  Master  Eugenio, 
whoever  he  is.  I've  a  curiosity  to  discover  him ;  and 
if  he  be  my  father — he  has  not  marked  the  passage, 
by  the  way — we'll  have  rare  fun  in  smoking  him  and 
tracking  him  unbeknown  to  the  rendezvous.  Come, 
lad,  and  if  I  know  the  Falmouth  mob  you  shall  have 
a  pretty  little  turn-up  well  worth  the  journey." 

58 


MESSAGE    OF    THE    SILENT    MEN 

But  Nat,  still  staring  out  of  the  window,  shook  his 
head.  He  was  in  one  of  his  perverse  moods — and 
they  had  been  growing  frequent  of  late — in  which 
nothing  I  could  say  or  do  seemed  to  content  him ; 
and  for  this  I  chiefly  accused  the  cordwainer's  daugh- 
ter, who  in  fact  was  a  decent,  merry  girl,  fond  of 
strawberries,  with  no  more  notion  of  falling  in  love 
with  Nat  than  of  running  oif  with  her  father's 
apprentice.  Whatever  the  cause  of  it,  a  cloud  had 
been  creeping  over  our  friendship  of  late.  He  sought 
companions — some  of  them  serious  men — with  whom 
I  could  not  be  easy.  We  kept  up  the  pretence,  but 
talked  no  longer  with  entirely  open  hearts.  Yet  I 
loved  him ;  and  now  in  a  sudden  urgent  desire  to 
carry  him  off  to  Cornwall  with  me  and  clear  up  all 
misunderstandings,  I  caught  his  arm  and  haled  him 
down  to  our  college  garden,  which  lies  close  within 
the  city  wall ;  and  there,  pacing  the  broken  military 
terrace,  plied  him  with  a  dozen  reasons  why  he  should 
come.  Still  he  shook  his  head  to  all  of  them ;  and 
presently,  hearing  four  o'clock  strike,  pulled  up  in 
his  walk  and  announced  that  he  must  be  going — he 
had  an  engagement. 

"  And  where  ?  "  I  asked. 

He  confessed  that  it  was  to  visit  the  poor  prisoners 
shut  up  for  debt  in  Bocardo. 

I  pulled  a  wry  mouth,  remembering  the  dismal 

59 


Sm    JOHN    COIs^STANTINE 

crew  in  the  Fleet  Prison.  But  though,  the  confession 
being  forced  from  him,  he  ended  wistfully  and  as  if 
upon  a  question,  I  did  not  offer  to  come.  It  seemed 
a  mighty  dull  way  to  finish  a  summer's  afternoon. 
Moreover,  I  was  nettled.  So  I  let  him  go  and 
watched  him  through  the  gate,  thinking  bitterly  that 
our  friendship  was  sick  and  drooping  by  no  fault  of 
mine. 

The  truth  was — or  so  I  tried  to  excuse  him — that 
beside  his  plaguy  trick  of  falling  in  and  out  of  love 
he  had  an  overhanging  quarrel  with  his  father,  a 
worthy  man,  tyrannous  when  crossed,  who  meant  him 
for  the  law.  ISTat  abhorred  the  law  and,  foreseeing 
that  the  tussle  must  come,  vexed  his  honest  conscience 
with  the  thought  that  while  delaying  to  declare  war 
he  was  eating  his  father's  bread.  This  thought,  work- 
ing upon  the  ferment  of  youth,  kept  him  like  a  colt  in 
a  fretful  lather.  He  scribbled  verses,  but  never  fin- 
ished so  much  as  a  sonnet ;  he  flung  himself  into  relig- 
ion, but  chiefly  (I  think)  to  challenge  and  irritate  his 
undevout  friends ;  and  he  would  drop  any  occupation 
to  rail  at  me  and  what  he  was  pleased  to  call  my 
phlegm. 

He  had  some  reason,  too,  though  at  the  time  I 
could  not  discover  it.  ISTow,  looking  back,  I  can  see 
into  what  a  stagnant  calm  I  had  run.  My  boyhood 
should  have  been  over;  in  body  I  had  shot  up  to  a 

60 


MESSAGE    OF    THE    SILENT    MEN 

great  awkward  height;  but  for  the  while  the  man 
within  me  drowsed  and  himg  fire.  I  lived  in  the 
passing  day  and  was  content  with  it.  Nat's  gusts  of 
passion  amused  me,  and  why  a  man  should  want  to 
write  verses  or  fall  in  love  was  a  mystery  at  which 
I  arrived  no  nearer  than  to  laugh.  For  this  (strange 
as  it  may  sound)  I  believe  the  visit  to  London  was 
partly  to  blame.  Nothing  had  come  of  it,  except  that 
the  unhappy  King  Theodore  had  gained  his  release 
and  improved  upon  it  by  dying  a  few  weeks  later,  in 
wretched  lodgings  in  Soho,  where,  at  my  father's  ex- 
pense, the  church  of  St.  Anne's  now  bore  a  mural 
tablet  to  his  memory  with  an  epitaph  obligingly  con- 
tributed by  the  Hon.  Horace  Walpole,  since  Earl  of 
Orford. 


Near  this  place  is  interred 

THEODORE  KING  OF  CORSICA 

who  died  in  this  parish 

Dec.  11,  1756 

immediately  after  leaving 

The  King;'s  Bench  Prison 

by  the  benefit  of  the  Act  of  Insolvency 

in  consequence  of  which 
he  registered  his  kingdom  of  Corsica 
for  the  use  of  his  creditors. 

The  grave,  great  teacher,  to  a  level  brings 
Heroes  and  beggars,  galley  slaves  and  kings; 
But  Theodore  this  moral  learned  ere  dead : 

01 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

Fate  poured  his  lesson  on  his  living  head, 
Bestow 'd  a  kingdom,  and  denied  him  bread. 

My  father,  Avho  copied  this  out  for  me,  had  an- 
nounced in  few  words  poor  Theodore's  fate,  but  with- 
out particular  allusion  to  our  adventure,  which,  as 
he  made  no  movement  to  follow  it  up,  or  none  that 
he  confided,  I  came  in  time  to  regard  humorously  a3 
an  escapade  of  his,  a  holiday  frolic,  a  piece  of  mid- 
summer madness.  The  serious  part  was  that  he  had 
undoubtedly  paid  away  large  sums  of  money,  and  for 
two  years  my  uncle  Gervase  had  worn  a  distracted 
air  which  I  set  down  to  the  family  accounts.  By 
degrees  I  came  to  conclude,  with  the  rest  of  the  world, 
that  my  father's  brain  was  more  than  a  little  cracked, 
and  sounded  my  uncle  privately  about  this — deli- 
cately as  I  thought ;  but  he  met  me  with  a  fierce  un- 
expected heat.  "  Your  father,"  said  he,  "  is  the  best 
man  in  the  world,  and  I  bid  you  wait  to  understand 
him  better,  taking  my  word  that  he  has  great  designs 
for  you."  Sure  enough,  too,  my  father  seemed  to 
hint  at  this  in  the  tenor  of  his  conversation  with  me, 
which  was  ever  of  high  politics  and  the  government 
of  states,  or  on  some  point  which  could  be  stretched 
to  bear  on  these ;  but  of  any  immediate  design  he  for- 
bore— as  it  seemed,  carefully — to  speak.  Thus  I 
found  myself  at  pause  and  let  my  youth  wait  upon 
his  decision. 

62 


MESSAGE    OF    THE    SILENT    MEX 

Yet  I  had  sense  enough  to  feel  less  than  satisfied 
with  myself,  albeit  sorer  with  Nat  as  I  watched  the 
dear  lad  go  from  me  across  the  turf  and  out  at  the 
garden  gate.  Nor  will  I  swear  that  my  eyes  did  not 
smart  a  little.  I  was  but  a  boy,  and  I  had  set  my 
heart  on  our  travelling  down  to  Cornwall  together. 

To  Cornwall  I  rode  down  alone,  a  week  later,  and 
fell  to  work  to  idle  my  vacation  away ;  fishing  a  little, 
but  oftener  sailing  my  boat — sometimes  alone,  some- 
times with  Billy  Priske  for  company.  Billy — whose 
duties  as  butler  were  what  he  called  a  sine  qua  non, 
pronounced  as  "  shiny  Canaan  "  and  meaning  a  sine- 
cure— had  spent  some  part  of  term  time  in  netting 
me  a  trammel,  of  which  he  was  inordinately  proud, 
and  with  this  we  amused  ourselves,  sailing  or  rowing 
do\vn  to  the  river's  mouth  every  evening  at  nightfall 
to  set  it,  and,  again,  soon  after  daybreak,  to  haul  it, 
and  usually  returning  with  good  store  of  fish  for 
breakfast — soles,  dories,  plaice,  and  the  red  mullet 
for  which  Helford  is  famous  over  all  streams. 

Now,  during  these  lazy  weeks  I  had  not  forgotten 
Eugenie's  advertisement,  which,  on  returning  to  my 
rooms  that  evening  after  Nat's  rebuff,  I  had  clipped 
from  the  newspaper  and  since  kept  in  my  pocket. 
For  the  fun  of  it  and  to  find  out  who  this  Eugenio 
might  be — I  had  given  over  suspecting  my  father — 
my  mind  was  made  up  to  ride  over  to  Falmouth  on 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

the  16th  of  July;  but  whether  with  or  without  a  rose 
in  my  hat  I  had  not  determined.  Therefore  on  the 
morning  of  the  15th,  when  Billy,  after  hauling  the 
trammel,  began  to  lay  our  plans  for  the  morrow,  I 
cut  him  short,  telling  him  that  to-morrow  I  should 
not  fish. 

"  WTiat's  matter  with  'ee  to-all  ?  "  he  asked,  smash- 
ing a  spider-crab  and  picking  it  out  piecemeal  from 
the  net.  "  Pretty  fair  catch  to-day,  id'n-a  ?  spite  of 
all  the  weed;  an'  no  harm  done  by  these  varmints 
that  a  man  can't  put  to  rights  afore  evenin'." 

I  took  the  paddles  without  answering  and  pulled 
towards  the  river's  mouth,  while  he  sat  and  smoked 
his  pipe  over  the  business  of  clearing  the  net  of  weed, 
which  for  some  days  had  been  troublesome.  Around 
his  feet  on  the  bottom  boards  lay  our  morning's  catch 
— half  a  dozen  soles  and  twice  the  number  of  plaice, 
a  brace  of  edible  crabs,  six  or  seven  red  mullet,  be- 
sides a  number  of  gurnard  and  wrass  worth  no  man's 
eating,  an  ugly-looking  monkfish,  and  a  bream  of 
wonderful  rainbow  hues.  A  silvery  fog  lay  over  the 
sea,  so  dense  that  in  places  we  could  see  but  a  bare 
score  of  yards;  but  over  it  the  tops  of  the  tall  cliffs 
stood  out  clear,  and  the  sun  was  mounting.  A  faint 
breeze  blew  from  the  southward.  All  promised  a  hot, 
still  day. 

The  tide  was  making,  too,  and  with  wind  and  tide 

64 


MESSAGE    OF    THE    SILENT    MEX 

to  help  I  pulled  over  the  river  bar  and,  within  it, 
towards  the  creek  where  daily,  after  hauling  the 
trammel,  I  bathed  from  the  boat ;  a  delectable  corner 
in  the  eye  of  the  morning  sunshine,  paved  fathoms 
deep  with  round,  white  pebbles,  one  of  which,  from 
the  gunwale,  I  selected  to  dive  for. 

The  sun  broke  through  the  sea-fog  around  us  while 
I  stripped ;  it  shone,  as  I  balanced  myself  for  the 
plunge,  on  the  broad  wings  of  a  heron  flapping  out 
from  the  wood's  blue  shadow;  it  shone  on  the  scales 
of  the  fish  struggling  and  gasping  under  the  thwarts. 
Divine  the  river  was,  divine  the  morning,  divine  the 
moment — the  last  of  my  boyhood. 

Souse  I  plunged  and  deep,  with  wide-open  eyes, 
chose  out  and  grasped  my  pebble,  and  rose  to  the  sur- 
face, holding  it  high  as  though  it  had  been  a  gem. 
The  sound  of  the  splash  was  in  my  ears  and  the  echo 
of  my  own  laugh,  but  with  it  there  mingled  a  cry 
from  Billy  Priske,  and,  shaking  the  water  out  of  my 
eyes,  I  saw  him  erect  in  the  stern-sheets  and  astare 
at  a  vision  parting  the  fog — the  vision  of  a  tall  fore- 
and-aft  sail,  golden-grey  against  the  sunlight,  and 
above  the  sail  a  foot  or  two  of  a  stout  pole-mast,  and 
above  the  mast  a  gilded  truck  and  weather-vane  with 
a  tail  of  scarlet  bunting.  So  closely  the  fog  hung 
about  her  that  for  a  second  I  took  her  to  be  a  cutter ; 
and  then  a  second  sail  crept  through  the  curtain,  and 

05 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

I  recognised  her  for  the  Gauntlet  ketch,  Port  of  Fal- 
mouth, Captain  Jo  Pomery,  returned  from  six 
months'  foreign.  I  announced  her  to  Billy  with  a 
shout. 

"  As  if  a  man  eouldn'  tell  that !  "  answered  Billy, 
removing  his  cap  and  rubbing  the  back  of  his  head. 
"  AVhat  brings  her  in  here,  that's  what  I'm  askin'  ?  " 

"  Belike,"  said  I,  scrambling  over  the  gunwale, 
"  the  man  has  lost  his  bearings  in  this  fog,  and  mis- 
takes Helford  for  Falmouth  entrance." 

"  Lost  his  bearin's !  Jo  Pomery  lost  his  bear- 
in's !  "  Billy  regarded  me  between  pity  and  re- 
proach. "  And  him  sailing  her  in  from  Blackhead 
close  round  the  Manacles,  in  half  a  capful  o'  wind  an' 
the  tides  lookin'  fifty  ways  for  Sunday !  That's  what 
he've  a-done,  for  the  weather  lifted  while  we  was 
hauling  trammel — anyways  east  of  south  a  man  could 
see  clear  for  three  mile  and  more,  an'  not  a  vessel  in 
sight  there.  There's  maybe  three  men  in  the  world 
besides  Jo  Pomery  could  ha'  done  it — the  Lord 
knows  how,  unless  'tis  by  sense  o'  smell.  And  he've 
a-lost  his  bearin's,  says  you !  " 

"  Well,  then,"  I  ventured,  "  perhaps  he  has  a  fancy 
to  land  part  of  his  cargo  duty  free." 

"  That's  likelier,"  Billy  assented.  "  I  don't  say 
'tis  the  truth,  mind  you,  for  if  'tis  truth,  why  should 
the  man  choose  to  fetch  land  by  daylight  ?    Fog  ?    A 

GG 


MESSx\GE    OF    THE    SILENT    MEX 

man  like  Jo  Pomerj  isn'  one  to  mistake  a  little  pride- 
o'-the-mornin'  for  proper  thick  weather — the  more  by 
token  it's  been  liftin'  this  hour  and  more.  But  'tis  a 
likelier  guess  anyway,  the  Gauntlet  being  from  for- 
eign. Lost  his  bearin's,  says  you,  and  come,  as  you 
might  say,  slap  through  the  Manacles;  an'  by  acci- 
dent, as  you  might  say !  Providence  has  a  broad 
back,  my  son,  but  be  careful  how  you  dance  'pon  it." 

'^  Where  does  she  come  from  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Mediterranean ;  that's  all  I  know.  Four  months 
and  more  she  must  ha'  took  on  this  trip.  Iss ;  sailed 
out  o'  Falmouth  back-along  in  the  tail-end  o'  Febru- 
ary, and  her  cargo  muskets  and  other  combustibles." 

"  Muskets  ?  " 

"  Muskets ;  and  you  may  leave  askin'  me  who 
wants  muskets  out  there,  for  in  the  first  place  I  don't 
know,  an'  a  still  tongue  makes  a  wise  head." 

I  had  slipped  on  shirt  and  breeches.  "  We'll  give 
him  a  hail,  an^^way,"  said  T,  "  and  if  there's  sport 
on  hand  he  may  happen  to  let  us  join  it."  The  ketch 
by  this  time  was  pushing  her  nose  past  the  spit  of 
rock  hiding  our  creek  from  seaward.  As  she  came 
by  with  both  large  sails  boomed  out  to  starboard  and 
sheets  alternately  sagging  loose  and  tautening  with 
a  jerk,  I  caught  sight  of  two  of  her  crew  in  the  bows, 
the  one  looking:  on  while  the  other  verv  deliberatelv 
imlashed  the  anchor,  and  aft  by  the  wheel  a  third 

67 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

man,  whom  I  made  out  to  be  Captain  Pomery  him- 
self. 

"  Gauntlet  ahoy !  "  I  shouted,  standing  on  the 
thwart  and  making  a  trumpet  of  my  hands. 

Captain  Pomery  turned,  cast  a  glance  towards  us 
over  his  left  shoulder,  and  lifted  a  hand.  A  moment 
later  he  called  an  order  forward,  and  the  two  men 
left  the  anchor  and  ran  to  haul  in  sheets.  Here  was 
a  plain  invitation  to  pull  alongside.  I  seized  a  pad- 
dle, and  was  working  the  boat's  nose  round,  to  pur- 
sue, when  another  figure  showed  above  the  Gauntlet's 
bulwarks:  a  tall  figure  in  an  orange-russet  garment 
like  a  dressing-gown ;  a  monk,  to  all  appearance,  for 
the  sun  played  on  his  tonsured  scalp  as  he  leaned  for- 
ward and  watched  our  approach. 


68 


CHAPTER    V 


THE    SILENT    MEN 


Seamen,  seamen,  whence  come  ye? 
Pardonnez  rnoy,  jc  vous  en  prie. — Old  Song. 

A  MONK  he  was  too.  A  second  and  third  look  over 
my  shoulder  left  me  no  doubt  of  it.  He  gravely 
handed  us  a  rope  as  we  overtook  the  ketch  and  ran 
alongside,  and  as  gravely  bowed  when  I  leapt  upon 
deck ;  but  he  gave  us  no  other  Avelcome. 

His  russet  gown  reached  almost  to  his  feet,  which 
were  bare ;  and  he  stood  amid  the  strangest  litter  of  a 
deck-cargo,  consisting  mainly — or  so  at  first  glance 
it  seemed  to  me — of  pot-plants  and  rude  agi-icultural 
implements:  spades,  flails,  forks,  mattocks,  picks, 
hoes,  dibbles,  rakes,  lashed  in  bundles;  sieves,  buck- 
ets, kegs,  bins,  milk-pails,  seed-hods,  troughs,  man- 
gers, a  wired  dovecote,  and  a  score  of  hen-coops  filled 
with  poultry.  Forward  of  the  mainmast  stood  a  cart 
with  shafts,  upright  and  lashed  to  the  mast,  that  the 
headsails  might  work  clear.  The  space  between  the 
masts  was  occupied  by  enormous  open  hatcliways 
through    which    came    the    lowing    of    oxen,     and 

69 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

through  these,  peering  down  into  the  hold,  I  saw 
the  backs  of  cattle  and  horses  moving  in  its  gloom, 
and  the  bodies  of  men  stretched  in  the  straw  at  their 
feet. 

So  much  of  the  Gauntlet's  hugger-mugger  I  man- 
aged to  discern  before  Captain  Pomery  left  the  helm 
and  hurried  forward  to  give  us  welcome  on  board. 

"  Mornin',  Squire  Prosper !  Mornin',  Billy ! 
You  know  me,  sir — Cap'n  Jo  Pomery — which  is 
short  for  Job,  and  'tis  the  luckiest  chance,  sir,  you 
hailed  me,  for  you'm  nearabouts  the  first  man  I 
wanted  to  see.  Faith,  now,  and  I  wonder  how  your 
father  (God  bless  him)  will  take  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter  ?  "  asked  I,  with  a  glance 
at  the  monk,  who  had  drawn  back  a  pace  and  stood, 
still  silent,  fingering  his  rosary. 

"  The  matter  ?  Good  Lord !  isn't  this  matter 
enough  ?  "  Captain  Jo  waved  an  arm  to  include  all 
the  deck-cargo.  "  See  them  pot-plants,  there,  and 
what  they'm  teeled  ^  in  ?  " 

"  Drinking-troughs  ?  "  said  I.  "  Or  .  .  .  is  it 
coffins  ?  " 

"  Coffins  it  is.  I'd  feel  easier  in  mind  if  you  could 
tell  me  what  your  father  (God  bless  him)  will  say 
to  it." 

"  But  what  has  all  this  to  do  with  my  father  ? 

1  Tilled. 
70 


5> 


THE    SILENT    MEX 

I  demanded,  and,  seeking  Billy's  eyes,  found  them  as 
frankly  full  of  amaze  as  my  own. 

"  Not  but  what,"  continued  Captain  Jo,  "  they've 
behaved  well,  though  dog-sick  to  a  man  from  the  time 
we  left  port.  Look  at  'em !  " — he  caught  me  by  the 
arm  and,  drawing  me  to  the  hatchway,  pointed  down 
to  the  hold.  '"  A  round  score  and  eight,  and  all  well 
paid  for  as  passengers ;  but  for  the  return  journey  I 
won't  answer.  It  depends  on  your  father,  and  that  " 
— with  a  jerk  of  his  thumb  towards  the  tall  monk — 
"  I  stippilated  when  I  shipped  'em.  '  Never  you 
mind,'  was  the  answer  I  got ;  '  take  'em  to  England 
to  Sir  John  Constantino.'    And  here  they  be !  " 

"  But  who  on  earth  are  they  ?  "  I  cried,  staring 
down  into  the  gloom,  where  presently  I  made  out  that 
the  men  stretched  in  the  straw  at  the  horses'  feet  were 
monks  all,  and  habited  like  the  monk  on  the  deck 
behind  me.  To  him  next  I  turned,  to  find  his  eyes, 
which  were  dark  and  quick,  searching  me  curiously; 
and  as  I  turned  he  made  a  step  forward,  put  out  a 
hand  as  if  to  touch  me  on  the  shirt-sleeve,  and  anon 
drew  it  back  timidly,  yet  still  continued  to  regard  me. 

"  You  are  a  son,  signor,  of  Sir  John  Constan- 
tine  ?  "  he  asked,  in  soft  Italian. 

"  I  am  his  only  son,  sir,"  I  ansv.-ered  him  in  the 
same  language. 

"  Ah !    You  speak  my  tongue  ?  "     A  gleam  of  joy 

71 


Sm    JOH]\'^    CONSTANTIXE 

passed  over  his  grave  features.  "  And  you  are  his 
son  ?  So — I  should  have  guessed  it  at  once,  for  you 
bear  great  likeness  to  him." 

"  You  know  my  father,  sir  ?  " 

"  Years  ago."  His  hands,  which  he  used  expres- 
sively, seemed  to  grope  in  a  far  past.  "  I  come  to 
him  also  from  one  who  knew  him  years  ago." 

"Upon  what  business,  sir?  if  I  am  allowed  to 
ask." 

"  I  bring  a  message."    He  pointed  to  his  breast. 

"  You  bring  a  tolerably  full  one,  then,"  said  T, 
glancing  first  at  the  disorder  on  deck  and  from  that 
down  to  the  recumbent  figures  in  the  hold. 

"  I  speak  for  them,"  he  went  on,  having  followed 
the  glance.  "  It  is  most  necessary  that  they  keep 
silence ;  but  I  speak  for  all." 

"  Then,  sir,  as  it  seems  to  me,  you  have  much  to 
say." 

"  No,"  he  answered  slowly ;  "  very  little,  I  think ; 
very  little,  as  you  will  see." 

Here  Captain  Jo  interrupted  us.  He  had  stepped 
back  to  steady  the  wheel,  but  I  fancy  that  the  word 
silenzio  must  have  reached  him,  and  that,  small  Ital- 
ian though  he  knew,  with  this  particular  word  the 
voyage  had  made  him  bitterly  acquainted. 

"  Dumb !  "  he  shouted.  "  Dumb  as  gutted  had- 
docks!" 

72 


THE    SILENT    MEN 

"  Dumb  ?  "  I  echoed,  while  the  two  seamen  for- 
ward heard  and  laughed. 

"  It  is  their  vow,"  said  the  monk  gravely,  and 
seemed  on  the  point  to  say  more. 

But  at  this  moment  Captain  Pomery  sang  out 
"  Gybe-o !  "  At  the  warning  we  ducked  our  heads 
together  as  the  boom  swung  over  and  the  Gauntlet, 
heeling  gently  for  a  moment,  rounded  the  river-bend 
in  view  of  the  great  house  of  Constantine,  set  high 
and  gazing  over  the  folded  woods.  A  house  more 
magnificently  placed,  with  forest,  park,  and  great 
stone  terraces  rising  in  successive  tiers  from  the 
water's  edge,  I  do  not  believe  our  England  in  those 
days  could  show;  and  it  deserved  its  site,  being 
amply  classical  in  design,  with  a  facade  that,  discard- 
ing mere  ornament,  expressed  its  proportion  and 
symmetry  in  bold  straight  lines,  prolonged  by  the 
terraces  on  which  tall  rows  of  pointed  yews  stood  sen- 
tinel. Right  English  though  it  was,  it  bore  (as  my 
father  used  to  say  of  our  best  English  poetry)  the 
stamp  of  great  Italian  descent,  and  I  saw  the  monk 
give  a  start  as  he  lifted  his  eyes  to  it. 

"  We  have  not  these  creeks  of  water  in  Italy,"  said 
he,  "  nor  these  woods,  nor  these  green  lawns ;  and 
yet,  if  those  trees,  aloft  there,  were  but  cypresses — " 
He  broke  oflF.  "  Our  voyage  has  a  good  ending,"  he 
added,  half  to  himself. 

73 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

The  Gauntlet  being  in  ballast  and  the  tide  high, 
Captain  Pomerj  fonnd  plenty  of  water  in  the  wind- 
ing channel,  every  curve  of  which  he  knew  to  a  hair, 
and  steered  for  at  its  due  moment,  winking  cheerfully 
at  Billy  and  me,  who  stood  ready  to  correct  his  pilot- 
age. 7Te  had  taken  in  his  mainsail,  and  carried  steer- 
age way  with  mizzen  and  jib  only  ;  and  thus,  for  close 
upon  a  mile,  we  rode  up  on  the  tide,  scaring  the 
herons  and  curlews  before  us,  until  drawing  within 
sight  of  a  grass-grown  quay  he  let  run  down  his  re- 
maining canvas  and  laid  the  ketch  alongside,  so 
gently  that  one  of  the  seamen,  who  had  cast  a  stout 
fender  overside,  stepped  ashore,  and  with  a  slow  pull 
on  her  main  rigging  checked  and  brought  her  to  a 
standstill. 

"  Aut  Lacedcemonium  Tarentum,"  said  the  monk 
at  my  shoulder  quietly  ;  and,  as  I  stared  at  him,  "  Ah, 
to  be  sure,  this  is  your  Tarentum,  is  it  not  ?  Yet  the 
words  came  to  me  for  the  sound's  sake  only  and  their 
falling  close.  Our  voyage  has  even  such  a  gentle 
ending." 

"  I  had  best  run  on,"  I  suggested,  "  and  warn  my 
father  of  your  coming." 

"  It  is  not  necessary." 

"  But  still,"  I  urged,  "  they  can  be  preparing 
breakfast  for  you,  up  at  the  house,  while  you  and 
your  friends  are  making  ready  to  come  ashore." 

74 


THE    SILENT    MEN 

"  We  have  broken  our  fast,"  he  answered ;  "  and 
we  are  quite  ready,  if  you  will  be  so  good  as  to 
guide  us." 

He  stepped  to  the  hatchways  and  called  down,  an- 
nouncing simply  that  the  voyage  was  ended :  and  in 
the  dusk  there  I  saw  monk  after  monk  upheave  him- 
self from  the  straw  and  come  clambering  up  the  lad- 
der ;  tall  monks  and  short,  old  monks  and  young  and 
middle-aged,  lean  monks  and  thickset — but  the  most 
of  them  cadaverous,  and  all  of  them  yellow  with  sea- 
sickness ;  twenty-eight  monks,  all  barefoot,  all  tol- 
erably dirty,  and  all  blinking  in  the  fresh  sunshine. 
When  they  were  gathered,  at  a  sign  from  one  of 
them — by  dress  not  distinguishable  from  his  fellows 
— all  knelt  and  gave  silent  thanks  for  the  voyage 
accomplished. 

I  could  see  that  Billy  Priske  was  frightened :  for 
arising  they  rolled  their  eyes  about  them  like  wild 
animals  turned  loose  in  an  unfamiliar  country,  and 
the  whites  of  their  eyes  were  yellow  (so  to  speak) 
with  seafaring,  and  their  pupils  glassy  with  fever 
and  from  the  sea's  glare.  But  their  spokesman 
touched  my  arm  and  motioned  me  to  lead ;  and,  when 
I  obeyed,  one  by  one  the  whole  troop  fell  into  line 
and  followed  at  his  feels. 

Thus  we  went — T  leading,  with  him  and  the  rest 
in  single  file  after  me — up  by  the  footpath  through 

75 


SIR    JOim    COXSTAXTIXE 

the  woods,  and  forth  into  sunshine  again  upon  the 
green,  dewy  bracken  of  the  deer-park.  Here  my  com- 
panion spoke  for  the  first  time  since  disembarking. 

"  Your  father,  sir,"  said  he,  looking  about  him  and 
seeming  to  sniff  the  morning  air,  "  must  be  a  very 
rich  signer." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  I  answered,  "  I  have  some 
reason  to  believe  him  a  poor  man." 

He  stared  down  for  a  moment  at  his  bare  feet,  wet 
with  the  grasses.  "  Ah  ?  Well,  it  will  make  no  dif- 
ference," he  said ;  and  we  resumed  our  way. 

As  we  climbed  the  last  slope  under  the  terraces  of 
the  house,  I  caught  sight  of  my  father  leaning  by  a 
balustrade  high  above  us,  at  the  head  of  a  double 
flight  of  broad  stone  steps,  and  splicing  the  top  joint 
of  a  trout-rod  he  had  broken  the  day  before.  He 
must  have  caught  sight  of  us  almost  at  the  moment 
when  we  emerged  from  the  woods. 

He  showed  no  surprise  at  all.  Only  as  I  led  my 
guests  up  the  steps  he  set  down  his  work  and,  raising 
a  hand,  bent  to  them  in  a  very  courteous  welcome. 

"  Good  morning,  lad !  And  good  morning  to  those 
you  bring,  whencesoever  they  come." 

"  They  come,  sir,"  I  answered,  "  in  Jo  Pomery's 
ketch  Gauntlet;  I  believe  from  Italy;  and  I  believe 
with  a  message  for  you." 

My  father  lifted  his  gaze  from  me  and  bent  it  on 

76 


THE    SILENT    MEN 

the  spokesman  at  my  elbow.  His  eyebrows  lifted 
with  surprise  and  sudden  pleasure. 

"  Hey  ? "  he  exclaimed.  "  Is  it  my  old  friend " 

But  the  other,  before  his  name  could  be  uttered, 
lifted  a  hand.  "  My  name  is  the  Brother  Basilio 
now,  Sir  John:  no  other  am  I  permitted  to  re- 
member. The  peace  of  God  be  with  you  and  upon 
your  house ! " 

"  And  with  you,  Brother  Basilio,  since  you  will 
have  it  so :  and  with  all  your  company !  You  bear  a 
message  for  me  ?  But  first  you  must  break  your 
fast."    He  turned  to  lead  the  way  to  the  house. 

"  We  have  eaten  already.  Sir  John.  As  soon  as 
your  leisure  serves,  we  would  deliver  our  message." 

My  father  called  to  Billy  Priske — who  hung  in  the 
rear  of  the  monks — bidding  him  fetch  my  uncle  Ger- 
vase  in  from  the  stables  to  the  State  Room,  and  so, 
without  another  word,  motioned  to  his  visitors  to  fol- 
low. To  this  day  I  can  hear  the  shuffle  of  their  bare 
feet  on  the  steps  and  slabs  of  the  terrace  as  they  hur- 
ried after  him  to  keep  up  with  his  long  strides. 

In  the  great  entrance-hall  he  paused  to  lift  a  bunch 
of  rusty  keys  off  their  hook,  and,  choosing  the  largest, 
unlocked  the  door  of  the  State  Room.  The  lock  had 
been  kept  well  oiled,  for  Billy  Priske  entered  it  twice 
daily ;  in  the  morning,  to  open  a  window  or  two,  and 
at  sunset,  to  close  them.     But  it  is  a  fact  that  I  had 

77 


SIR   JOHN    COXSTANTINE 

not  crossed  its  threshold  a  score  of  times  in  my  life, 
though  I  ran  by  it,  maybe,  as  many  times  a  day ;  nor 
(as  I  believe)  had  my  father  entered  it  for  years. 
Yet  it  was  the  noblest  room  in  the  house,  in  length 
seventy-five  feet,  panelled  high  in  dark  oak  and  cedar 
and  adorned  around  each  panel  with  carvings  of 
Grinling  Gibbons — festoons  and  crowns  and  cherub- 
faces  and  intricate  baskets  of  flowers.  Each  panel 
held  a  portrait,  and  over  every  panel,  in  faded  gilt 
against  the  morning  sun,  shone  an  imperial  crown. 
The  windows  were  draped  with  hangings  of  rotten 
velvet.  At  the  far  end  on  a  dais  stood  a  porphyry 
table,  and  behind  it,  facing  down  the  room,  a  single 
chair,  or  throne,  also  of  porphyry  and  rudely  carved. 
For  the  rest  the  room  held  nothing  but  dust — dust  so 
thick  that  our  visitors'  naked  feet  left  imprints  upon 
it  as  they  huddled  after  their  leader  to  the  dais, 
where  my  father  took  his  seat,  after  beckoning  me 
forward  to  stand  on  his  right. 

But  of  all  bewildered  faces  there  was  never  a 
blanker,  I  believe,  since  the  world  began  than  my 
uncle  Gervase's ;  who  now  appeared  in  the  doorway, 
a  bucket  in  his  hand,  straight  from  the  stables  where 
he  had  been  giving  my  father's  roan  horse  a  drench. 
Billy's  summons  must  have  hurried  him,  for  he  had 
not  even  waited  to  turn  down  his  shirt-sleeves:  but 
as  plainly  it  had  given  him  no  sort  of  notion  why  he 

T8 


THE    SILENT    MEN 

•was  wanted  and  in  the  State  Room.  I  guessed  indeed 
that  on  his  way  he  had  caught  up  the  bucket  sup- 
posing that  the  house  was  afire.  At  sight  of  the 
monks  he  set  it  down  slowly,  gently,  staring  at  them 
the  while,  and  seemed  in  act  of  inverting  it  to  sit 
upon,  when  my  father  addressed  him  from  the  dais 
over  the  shaven  heads  of  the  audience. 

"  Brother,  I  am  sorry  to  have  disturbed  you :  but 
here  is  a  business  in  which  I  may  need  your  counsel. 
Will  it  please  you  to  step  this  way  ?  These  guests  of 
ours,  I  should  first  explain,  have  arrived  from  over 
seas." 

My  uncle  came  forward,  still  like  a  man  in  a 
dream,  mounted  the  dais  on  my  father's  left  and, 
turnine:,  surveved  the  visitors  in  front. 

"  Eh  ?  To  be  sure,  to  be  sure,"  he  murmured. 
Broomsticks  ?  " 

"  Their  spokesman  here,  who  gives  his  name  as  the 
Brother  Basilio,  l)ears  a  message  for  me ;  and  since 
he  presents  it  in  form  with  a  whole  legation  at  his 
back,  I  think  it  due  to  treat  him  with  equal  ceremony. 
Do  you  agree  ?  " 

"  If  you  ask  me,"  my  uncle  answered  after  a  pause 
full  of  thought,  "  they  would  prefer  to  start,  maybe, 
with  a  wash  and  a  breakfast.  By  good  luck,  Billy 
tells  me,  the  trammel  has  made  a  good  haul.  As  for 
basins,  brother,  our  stock  will  not  serve  all  these  gen- 

79 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTAXTIXE 

tlemen :  but  if  the  rest  will  take  the  will  for  the  deed 
and  use  the  pump  I'll  go  round  meanwhile  and  see 
how  the  hens  have  been  laying." 

"  You  are  the  most  practical  of  men,  brother :  but 
my  offer  of  breakfast  has  already  been  declined. 
Shall  we  hear  what  Dom  Basilio  has  to  say  ?  " 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say,  Sir  John,"  put  in  Brother 
Basilio,  advancing,  "  but  to  give  you  this  letter  and 
await  your  answer." 

He  drew  a  folded  paper  from  his  tunic  and  handed 
it  to  my  father,  who  rose  to  receive  it,  turned  it  over, 
and  glanced  at  the  superscription.  I  saw  a  red  flush 
creep  slowly  up  to  his  temples  and  fade,  leaving  his 
face  extraordinarily  pale.  A  moment  later,  in  face 
of  his  audience,  he  lifted  the  paper  to  his  lips,  kissed 
it  reverently,  and  broke  the  seal. 

Again  I  saw  the  flush  mount  to  his  temples  as  he 
read  the  letter  through  slowly  and  in  silence.  Then 
after  a  long  pause  he  handed  it  to  me ;  and  I  took  it 
wondering,  for  his  eyes  were  dim  and  yet  bright  with 
a  noble  joy. 

The  letter  (turned  into  English)  ran  thus: 

To  Sir  John  Constantiiie,  Knight  of  the  Most  Noble  Order 
of  the  Star,  at  his  house  of  Constantine  in  Cornwall, 
England. 

My  Friend, — The  bearer  of  this  and   his  company  have 
been  driven  by  the  Genoese  from  their  monastery  of  San  Gior- 

80 


THE    SILEXT    MEN 

gio  on  my  estate  of  Casalabriva  above  the  Taravo  valley, 
the  same  where  you  will  remember  our  treading  the  vintage 
together  to  the  freedom  of  Corsica.  But  the  Genoese  have 
cut  down  my  vines  long  since,  and  now  they  have  fired  the 
roof  over  these  my  tenants  and  driven  them  into  the  macchia, 
whence  they  send  message  to  me  to  deliver  them.  Indeed, 
friend,  I  have  much  ado  to  protect  myself  in  these  days :  but 
by  good  fortune  I  have  heard  of  an  English  vessel  homeward 
bound  which  will  serve  them  if  they  can  reach  the  coast,  when 
numbers  of  the  faithful  will  send  them  off  with  good  provision. 
Afterwards,  what  will  happen?  To  England  the  ship  is 
bound,  and  in  England  I  know  you  only.  Remembering 
your  great  heart,  I  call  on  it  for  what  help  you  can  render  to 
these  holy  men.  Addio,  friend.  You  are  remembered  in  my 
constant  prayers  to  Christ,  the  Virgin,  and  all  the  Saints. 

Emilia. 

At  a  sign  from  my  father — who  had  sunk  back  in 
his  chair  and  sat  gripping  its  arms — I  passed  on  this 
epistle  to  my  uncle  Gervase,  who  read  it  and  ran  his 
hand  through  his  hair. 

"  Dear  me !  "  said  he,  running  his  eye  over  the 
attentive  monks,  "  this  lady,  whoever  she  may 
be " 

"  She  is  a  crowned  queen,  brother  Gervase,"  my 
father  interrupted ;  "  and  moreover  she  is  the  noblest' 
woman  in  the  world." 

"  As  to  that,  brother,"  returned  my  uncle,  "  I  am 
saying  nothing.  But  speaking  of  what  I  know,  I 
say  she  can  be  but  poorly  conversant  with  your 
worldly  aifairs." 

81 


SIR    JOnX    CO^^STAA^TIXE 

Mv  father  half-lifted  himself  from  his  seat. 
"  And  is  that  how  voii  take  it  ? "  he  demanded 
sharply.  "  Is  that  all  you  read  in  the  letter  ? 
Brother,  I  tell  you  again,  this  lady  is  a  queen. 
What  should  a  queen  know  of  my  degree  of  pov- 
erty ? " 

"  Nevertheless — "  began  my  uncle. 

But  my  father  cut  him  short  again.  "  I  had 
hoped,"  said  he  reproachfully,  "  you  would  have 
been  prompt  to  recognise  her  noble  confidence.  Mark 
you  how,  no  question  put,  she  honours  me.  *  Do  this, 
for  my  sake  ' — Who  but  the  greatest  in  this  world 
can  appeal  thus  simply  ?  " 

"  None,  maybe,"  my  uncle  replied ;  "  as  none  but 
the  well-to-do  can  answer  with  a  like  ease." 

"  You  come  near  to  anger  me,  brother ;  but  I  re- 
member that  you  never  knew  her.  Is  not  this  house 
large  ?  Are  not  four-fifths  of  my  rooms  lying  at  this 
moment  untenanted  ?  Very  well :  for  so  long  as  it 
pleases  them,  since  she  claims  it,  these  holy  men  shall 
be  our  guests.  No  more  of  this,"  my  father  com- 
manded peremptorily,  and  added  with  all  the  gravity 
in  the  world,  "  You  should  thank  her  consideration 
rather,  that  she  sends  us  visitors  so  frugal,  since  pov- 
erty degrades  us  to  these  economies.  But  there  is 
one  thing  puzzles  me,"  he  went  on,  taking  the 
letter  again  from  my  uncle  and  fastening  his  gaze 

82 


THE    SILENT    MEX 

on  the  Brother  Basilio.  "  She  says  she  has  much  ado 
to  protect  herself." 

"  Indeed,  Sir  John,"  answered  Brother  Basilio,  "  I 
fear  the  queen,  our  late  liege-lady,  writes  somewhat 
less  than  the  truth.  She  wrote  to  you  from  a  poor 
lodging  hard  by  Bastia,  having  ventured  back  to  Cor- 
sica out  of  Tuscany  on  business  of  her  own;  and  on 
the  eve  of  sailing  we  heard  that  she  had  been  taken 
prisoner  by  the  Genoese." 

"  What !  "  My  father  rose,  clutching  the  arms  of 
his  chair.  Of  stone  they  were,  like  the  chair  itself, 
and  well  mortised :  but  his  great  grip  wrenched  them 
out  of  their  mortises  and  they  crashed  on  the  dais. 
"  What !  You  left  her  a  prisoner  of  the  Genoese !  " 
He  gazed  around  them  in  a  wrath  that  slowly  grew 
cold,  freezing  into  contempt.  "  Go,  sirs ;  since  she 
commands  it,  room  shall  be  found  for  you  all.  My 
house  for  the  while  is  yours.    But  go  from  me  now." 


83 


CHAPTER    VI 


HOW  MY   FATHER  OUT   OF  NOTHING    BUILT  AN   ARMY, 
AND   IN    FIVE    MINUTES    PLANNED   AN    INVASION 


Walled  Townes,  stored  Arcenalls  and  Armouries,  Goodly  Races 
of  Horse,  Chariots  of  Warre,  Elephants,  Ordnance,  Artillery,  and 
the  like:  All  this  is  but  a  Sheep  in  a  I-ion's  Skin,  except  the  Breed 
and  disposition  be  stout  and  warlike.  Nay,  Number  it  selfe  in 
Armies  importeth  not  much  where  the  People  is  of  weake  courage: 
For  (as  Virgil  saith)  It  never  troubles  a  Wolfe,  how  many  the 
sheepe  be. — Bacon. 

For  the  rest  of  the  day  my  father  shut  himself  in 
his  room,  while  my  uncle  spent  the  most  of  it  seated 
on  the  hrewhouse  steps  in  a  shaded  corner  of  the 
back  court,  through  which  the  monks  brought  in  their 
furniture  and  returned  to  the  ship  for  more.  The 
bundles  they  carried  were  prodigious,  and  all  the 
morning  they  worked  without  halt  or  rest,  ascending 
and  descending  the  hill  in  single  file  and  always  at 
equal  distances  one  behind  another.  Watching  from 
the  terrace  down  the  slope  of  the  park  as  they  came 
and  went,  you  might  have  taken  them  for  a  company 
of  ants  moving  camp.  But  my  uncle  never  wholly 
recovered  from  the  shock  of  his  first  fright,  to  see 
man  by  man  cross  the  court  with  a  stout  coffin  on  his 

84 


AN    ARMY    AND    AN    INVASION 

back  and  above  each  coffin  a  pack  of  straw:  nor  was 
he  content  with  Fra  Basilio's  explanation  that  the 
brethren  slept  in  these  coffins  by  rule  and  saved  the 
expense  of  beds. 

"  For  my  part,"  said  my  imcle,  "  considering  the 
numbers  that  manage  it,  I  should  have  thought  death 
no  such  dexterity  as  to  need  practice," 

"  Yet  bethink  you,  sir,  of  St.  Paul's  words.  '  I 
protest,'  said  he,  '  I  die  daily.'  " 

"  Why,  yes,  sir,  and  so  do  we  all,"  agreed  my  uncle, 
and  fell  silent,  on  the  very  point,  as  it  seemed,  of 
continuing  the  argument.  "  I  did  not  choose  to  be 
discourteous,  lad,"  he  explained  to  me  later :  "  but 
I  had  a  mind  to  tell  him  that  we  do  daily  a  score  of 
things  we  don't  brag  about — of  which  I  might  have 
added  that  washing  is  one :  and  I  believe  'twould  have 
been  news  to  him." 

I  had  never  knoAvn  my  uncle  in  so  rough  a  temper. 
Poor  man !  I  believe  that  all  the  time  he  sat  there  on 
the  brewhouse  steps,  he  was  calculating  woefully  the 
cost  of  these  visitors ;  and  it  hurt  him  the  worse  be- 
cause he  had  a  native  disposition  to  be  hospitable. 

''  But  who  is  this  lady  that  signs  herself  Emilia  ?  " 
I  asked. 

"  A  crowned  queen,  lad,  and  the  noblest  lady  in  the 
world — you  heard  your  father  say  it.  This  evening 
he  may  choose  to  tell  us  some  further  particulars." 

85 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

"  Why  this  evening  ?  "  I  asked,  and  then  suddenly 
remembered  that  to-day  was  the  15th  of  Jnly  and  St. 
Swithin's  feast;  that  my  father  wonld  not  fail  to 
drink  wine  after  dinner  in  the  little  temple  below  the 
deer-park ;  and  that  he  had  promised  to  admit  me 
to-night  to  make  the  fourth  in  St.  Swithin's  brother- 
hood. 

He  appeared  at  dinner  time,  punctual  and  dressed 
with  more  than  his  usual  care  (I  noted  that  he  wore 
his  finest  lace  ruffles)  ;  and  before  going  in  to  dinner 
we  were  joined  by  the  Vicar,  much  perturbed — as  his 
manner  showed — by  the  news  of  a  sudden  descent  of 
papists  upon  his  parish.  Indeed  the  good  man  so 
bubbled  with  it  that  we  had  scarcely  taken  our  seats 
before  the  stream  of  questions  overflowed.  "  Who 
were  these  men  ?  "  "  How  many  ?  "  "  Whence  had 
they  come,  and  why  ?  "  etc. 

I  glanced  at  my  father  in  some  anxiety  for  his 
temper.  But  he  laughed  and  carved  the  salmon  com- 
posedly. He  had  a  deep  and  tolerant  affection  for 
Mr.  Grylls.  "Where  shall  I  begin?"  said  he. 
"  They  are,  I  believe,  between  twenty  and  thirty  in 
number,  though  I  took  no  care  to  count ;  and  they 
belong  to  the  Trappistine  Order,  to  which  I  have  ever 
been  attracted ;  first,  because  I  count  it  admirable  to 
renounce  all  for  a  faith,  however  frantic,  and  sec- 
ondly for  the  memory  of  Bouthillier  de  Ranee,  who 

86 


AN    ARMY    AXD    AX    INVASION 

a  hundred  years  ago  revived  the  order  after  five  hun- 
dred years  of  desuetude." 

"  And  who  was  he  ?  "  inquired  the  Vicar. 
"  He  was  a  young  rake  in  Paris,  tonsured  for  the 
sake  of  the  family  benefices,  who  had  for  mistress  no 
less  a  lady  than  the  Duchess  de  Rohan-Montbazon. 
One  day,  returning  from  the  country  after  a  week's 
absence  and  letting  himself  into  the  house  by  a  pri- 
vate key,  he  rushed  upstairs  in  a  lover's  haste,  burst 
open  the  door,  and  found  himself  in  a  chamber  hung 
with  black  and  lit  with  many  candles.  His  mistress 
had  died,  the  day  before,  of  a  putrid  fever.  But — • 
worse  than  this  and  most  horrible — the  servants  tad 
ordered  the  coffin  in  haste;  and,  when  delivered,  it 
was  found  to  be  too  short.  Upon  which,  to  have  done 
with  her,  in  their  terror  of  infection,  they  had  lopped 
off  the  head,  which  lay  pitiably  dissevered  from  the 
trunk.  For  three  years  after  the  young  man  travelled 
as  one  mad,  but  at  length  found  solace  in  his  neg- 
lected abbacy  of  Soligny-la-Trappe,  and  in  reviving 
its  extreme  Cistercian  rigours." 

"  I  had  supposed  the  Trappists  to  be  a  French 
order  in  origin,  and  confined  to  France,"  said  the 
Vicar. 

"  They  have  offshoots:  of  which  I  knew  but  one  in 
Italv.  that  settled  some  fiftv  vears  back  in  a  monas- 
tery  they  call  Buon-Solazzo,  outside  Florence,  at  the 

ST 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

invitation  of  the  Grand  Duke  of  Tiiscanv.  But  I 
have  been  making  question  of  our  guests  through 
Dom  Basilio,  their  guest-master  and  abbot  de  facto 
(since  their  late  abbot,  an  old  man  whom  he  calls 
Dom  Polifilo^  died  of  exposure  on  the  mountains 
some  three  days  before  they  embarked)  ;  and  it  ap- 
pears that  they  belong  to  a  second  colony,  which  has 
made  its  home  for  these  ten  vears  at  Casalabriva  in 
Corsica,  having  arrived  by  invitation  of  the  Queen 
Emilia  of  that  island,  and  there  abiding  until  the 
Genoese  burned  the  roof  over  their  heads." 

The  Vicar  sipped  his  wine. 

"  You  have  considered/'  he  asked,  "  the  peril 
of  introducing  so  many  papists  into  our  quiet 
parish  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  considered  it  for  a  moment,"  answered 
my  father  cheerfully.  "  Nor  have  I  introduced  them. 
But  if  you  fear  they'll  convert — pervert — subvert — 
invert  your  parishioners  and  turn  'em  into  papists, 
I  can  reassure  you.  For  in  the  first  place  thirty  men, 
or  thirty  thousand,  of  whom  only  one  can  open  his 
mouth,  are,  for  proselytising,  equal  to  one  man  and 
no  more." 

"  They  can  teach  by  their  example  if  not  by  their 
precept,"  urged  the  Vicar. 

"  Their  example  is  to  sleep  in  their  coffins.  My 
good  sir,  if  you  will  not  trust  your  English  doctrine 

88 


AX    AiniV    AXD    AN    IXVASIOX 

to  its  own  truth,  yoii  might  at  least  rely  on  the  per- 
suasiveness of  its  comfort.  Nay,  pardon  me,  my 
friend,"  he  went  on,  as  the  Vicar's  either  cheekbone 
showed  a  red  flush,  "  I  did  not  mean  to  speak  offen- 
sively ;  but  Englishman  as  I  am,  in  matters  of  relig- 
ion my  coimtrymen  are  ever  a  puzzle  to  me.  At  a 
great  price  you  won  your  freedom  from  the  Bishop  of 
Rome  and  hi.s  dictation.  I  admire  the  price  and  I 
love  liberty;  yet  liberty  has  its  drawbacks,  as  you 
have  for  a  long  while  been  discovering ;  of  which  the 
first  is  that  every  man  with  maggot  in  his  head  can 
claim  a  like  liberty  with  yourselves,  quoting  your 
own  words  in  support  of  it.  Let  me  remind  you  of 
that  passage  in  which  Rabelais — borrowing,  I  believe, 
from  Lucian — brings  the  good  Pantagruel  and  his 
fellow-voyagers  to  a  port  which  he  calls  the  Port  of 
Lanterns.  '  Then  (says  he)  upon  a  tall  tower  Panta- 
gruel recognised  the  Lantern  of  La  Rochelle,  which 
gave  us  an  excellent,  clear  light.  Also  we  saw  the 
Lanterns  of  Pharos,  of  Xauplia,  and  of  the  Acropolis 
of  Athens,  sacred  to  Pallas,'  and  so  on;  whence  1 
draw  the  moral  that  coast-lights  are  good,  yet,  multi- 
plied, they  complicate  navigation." 

" — and    apply    your   moral   by   erecting   yet    an- 
other!" 

"  Fairly  retorted.    Yet  how  can  you  object  without 
turning  the  sword  of  Liberty  against  herself  ?    Have 

89 


Sm    JOHN    COXSTAXTIXE 

you  never  heard  tell,  by  the  way,  of  Captain  Byng's 
midshipman  ?  " 

"  Who  was  he  ?  " 

"  I  forget  his  name,  but  he  started  his  first  night 
aboard  ship  by  kneeling  down  and  saying  his  prayers, 
as  his  mother  had  taught  him." 

"  I  commend  the  boy,"  said  my  uncle. 

"  I  also  commend  him :  but  the  crowd  of  his  fellow- 
midshipmen  found  it  against  the  custom  of  the  ser- 
vice and  gave  him  the  strap  for  it.  This,  however, 
raised  him  up  a  champion  in  one  of  the  taller  lads, 
who  protested  that  their  conduct  was  tyrannous: 
'  and,'  said  he  very  very  generously,  '  to-morrow 
night  I  too  propose  to  say  my  prayers.  If  any  one 
object,  he  may  fight  me.'  Thus,  being  a  handy  lad 
with  his  fists,  he  established  the  right  of  religious 
liberty  on  board.  By  and  by  one  or  two  of  the  better- 
disposed  midshipmen  followed  his  example:  by  de- 
grees the  custom  spread  along  the  lower  deck,  where 
the  dispute  had  happened  in  full  view  of  the  whole 
ship's  company,  seamen  and  marines ;  and  by  the 
time  she  reached  her  port  of  Halifax  she  hadn't  a 
man  on  board  (outside  the  ward-room)  but  said  his 
prayers  regularly." 

A  notable  Christian  triumph,"  was  the  Vicar's 
comment. 

"  Quite    so.      At   Halifax,"    pursued    my   father, 

'JO 


AN    ARMY    AND    AX    IXVASIOX 


(I 


Captain  Byng  took  aboard  out  of  hospital  another 
small  midshipman,  who  on  his  first  night  no  sooner 
climbed  into  bis  hammock  than  the  entire  mess 
bundled  him  out  of  it.  '  We  would  have  you  to  know, 
young  man,'  said  they,  '  that  private  devotion  is  the 
rule  on  board  our  ship.  It's  down  on  your  knees  this 
minute  or  you  get  the  strap.' 

"  I  leave  you,"  my  father  concluded,  "  to  draw  the 
moral.  For  my  part  the  tale  teaches  me  that  in  any 
struggle  for  freedom  the  real  danger  begins  w^ith  the 
moment  of  victory." 

Said  my  uncle  Gervase  after  a  pause,  "  Then  these 
Corsicans  of  yours,  brother,  stand  as  yet  in  no  real 
danger,  since  the  Genoese  are  yet  harrying  their 
island  with  fire  and  sword." 

"  In  no  danger  at  all  as  regards  their  liberty,"  an- 
swered my  father,  poising  his  knife  for  a  first  cut 
into  the  saddle  of  mutton,  "  though  in  some  danger, 
I  fear  me,  as  regards  their  queen.  They  have,  how- 
ever, taken  the  first  and  most  important  step  by  get- 
ting the  news  carried  to  me.  The  next  is  to  raise 
an  army;  and  the  next  after  that,  to  suit  the  plan 
of  invasion  to  our  forces.  Indeed,"  wound  up  my 
father  with  another  flourish  of  his  carving-knife. 
"  I  am  in  considerable  doubt  where  to  make  a 
start." 

"  I  hold,"  said  my  uncle,  eyeing  the  saddle  of  mut- 

91 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTIXE 

ton,  "  that  you  save  the  gravy  by  beginning  close 
alone^side  the  chine." 

"  I  was  thinking  for  my  part  that  either  Porto  or 
Sagone  would  serve  us  best,"  said  my  father  medi- 
tatively. 

Dinner  over,  the  four  of  us  strolled  out  abreast 
into  the  cool  evening  and  down  through  the  deer-park 
to  the  small  Ionic  temple,  where  Billy  Priske  had  laid 
out  fruit,  wine,  and  glasses ;  and  there,  with  no  more 
ceremony  than  standing  to  drink  my  health,  the  three 
initiated  me  into  the  brotherhood  of  St.  Swithin.  It 
gave  me  a  sudden  sense  of  being  grown  a  man,  and 
this  sense  my  father  very  promptly  proceeded  to 
strengthen. 

"  I  had  hoped,"  said  he,  putting  down  his  glass 
and  seating  himself,  "  to  delay  Prosper's  novitiate. 
I  had  designed,  indeed,  that  after  staying  his  full 
time  at  Oxford  he  should  make  the  Grand  Tour  with 
me  and  prepare  himself  for  his  destiny  by  a  leisured 
study  of  cities  and  men.  But  this  morning's  news 
has  forced  me  to  reshape  my  plans.     Listen : 

"  In  the  early  autumn  of  1735,  being  then  at  the 
Court  of  Tuscany,  I  received  sudden  and  secret  or- 
ders to  repair  to  Corte,  the  capital  of  Corsica,  an  isl- 
and of  which  I  knew  nothing  beyond  what  I  had 
learnt  in  casual  talk  from  the  Count  Domenico  Riva- 
rola,  who  then  acted  as  its  plenipotentiary  at  Flor- 

92 


AX    ARMY    AND    AN    INVASION 

ence.  He  was  a  man  with  whom  I  would  willingly 
have  taken  coimsel,  but  my  orders  from  England 
expressly  forbade  it.  Rivarola  in  fact  was  suspected 
— and  justly  as  my  story  will  show — of  designs  of  his 
own  for  the  future  of  the  island ;  and  although,  as  it 
will  also  show,  we  had  done  better  to  consult  him — 
Wal pole's  injunctions  were  precise  that  I  should  by 
every  means  keep  him  in  the  dark. 

"  The  situation — to  put  it  as  briefly  as  I  can — was 
this.  For  two  hundred  years  or  so  the  island  had 
been  ruled  by  the  Republic  of  Genoa;  and,  by  com- 
mon consent,  atrociously.  For  generations  the  island- 
ers had  lived  in  chronic  revolt,  under  chiefs  against 
whom  the  Genoese — or,  to  speak  more  correctly,  the 
Bank  of  Genoa — had  not  scrupled  to  apply  every  de- 
vice, down  to  secret  assassination,  Uno  avolso  non 
deficit  alter:  the  Corsicans  never  lacked  a  leader  to 
replace  the  fallen:  and  in  1735  the  succession  was 
shared  by  two  noble  patriots,  Giafferi  and  Hyacinth 
Paoli. 

"  Under  their  attacks  the  Genoese  were  slowlv  but 
none  the  less  certainly  losing  their  hold  on  the  island. 
Their  plight  was  such  that,  although  no  one  knew 
precisely  what  they  would  do,  every  one  foresaw  that, 
failino;  some  heroic  remedv,  thev  must  be  driven  into 
the  sea,  garrison  after  garrison,  and  lose  Corsica  alto- 
gether;   and  of  all   speculations   the  most   probable 

93 


SIR    JOHN    COXSTANTIXE 

seemed  that  thej  would  sell  the  island,  with  all  its 
troubles,  to  France.  Now  for  France  to  acquire  so 
capital  a  point  d'appui  in  the  Mediterranean  would 
obviously  be  no  small  inconvenience  to  England :  and 
therefore  our  Ministers — who  had  hitherto  regarded 
the  struggles  of  the  islanders  with  indifference — ^woke 
up  to  a  sudden  interest  in  Corsican  affairs. 

"  They  had  no  excuse  for  interfering  openly.  But 
if  the  Corsicans  would  but  take  heart  and  choose 
themselves  a  king,  that  king  could  at  a  ripe  moment 
be  diplomatically  acknowledged ;  and  any  interfer- 
ence by  France  would  at  once  become  an  act  of  vio- 
lent usurpation.  (For  let  me  tell  you,  my  friends — 
the  sufferings  of  a  people  count  as  nothing  in  diplo- 
macy against  the  least  trivial  act  against  a  crown.) 
The  nuisance  was,  the  two  Paolis,  Giafferi  and  Hya- 
cinth, had  no  notion  whatever  of  making  themselves 
kings ;  nor  would  their  devoted  followers  have  tol- 
erated it.  Yet — as  sometimes  liappens — there  was  a 
third  man,  of  greater  descent  than  they,  to  whom 
at  a  pinch  the  crown  miglit  be  offered,  and  with  a 
far  more  likely  chance  of  the  Corsicans'  acquiescence. 
This  was  a  Count  Ugo  Colonna,  a  middle-aged  man, 
descended  from  the  oldest  nobility  of  the  island,  and 
head  of  his  family,  which  might  more  properly  be 
called  a  clan;  a  patriot,  in  his  way,  too,  though  lack- 
ing the   fire  of  the   Paolis,   to  whom    he   had   sur- 

94 


AX    ARMY    AND    AN    INVASION 

rendered  the  leadership  while  remaining  some- 
thing of  a  figurehead.  In  short  my  business  was 
to  confer  with  him  at  Corte,  persuade  the  Corsican 
chiefs  to  offer  him  the  crown,  and  persuade  him  to 
accept  it. 

"  I  arrived  then  at  the  capital  and  found  Count 
Ugo  willing  enough,  though  by  no  means  eager,  for 
the  honour.  He  was  in  fact  a  mild-mannered  gentle- 
man of  no  great  force  of  character,  and  frequently 
interrupted  our  conference  to  talk  by  choice  of  a 
bowel-complaint  which  obviously  meant  more  to  him 
than  all  the  internal  complications  of  Europe :  and 
next  to  his  bowel-complaint — but  some  way  after — 
he  prized  his  popularity,  which  ever  seemed  more  im- 
portant than  his  country's  welfare :  or  belike  he 
confused  the  two.  He  was  at  great  pains  to  impress 
me  with  the  sacrifices  he  had  made  for  Corsica — 
which  in  tlic  past  had  been  real  enough:  but  he  had 
come  to  regard  them  chiefly  as  matter  for  public 
speaking,  or  excuse  for  public  bowing  and  lifting  of 
the  hat.  You  know  the  sort  of  man,  I  dare  say.  To 
pass  that  view  of  life,  at  his  age,  is  the  last  test 
of  greatness. 

*'  Still,  the  notion  of  being  crowned  King  of  Cor- 
sica tickled  his  vanity,  and  would  liave  tickled  it 
more  had  he  begotten  a  son  to  succeed  him.  It 
opened  new  prospects  of  driving  through  crowds  and 

95 


SIR    JOHX    COXSTANTmE 

bowing  and  lifting  his  hat :  and  he  turned  pardonably 
sulky  when  the  two  Paolis  treated  my  proposals  with 
suspicion.  They  had  an  immense  respect  for  Eng- 
land as  the  leader  of  the  free  peoples:  but  they 
wanted  to  know  why  in  Tuscany  I  had  not  taken 
their  Count  Rivarola  into  my  confidence.  In  fact 
they  were  in  communication  with  their  plenipoten- 
tiary already,  and  half-way  towards  another  plan, 
of  which  very  excusably  they  allowed  me  to  guess 
nothing. 

"  The  upshot  was  that  my  interference  threw 
Count  Ugo  into  a  pet  with  them.  He  only  wanted 
them  to  press  him;  was  angry  at  not  being  pressed; 
yet  believed  that  they  would  repent  in  time.  Mean- 
while he  persuaded  me  to  ride  back  with  him  to  one 
of  his  estates,  a  palace  above  the  valley  of  the 
Taravo. 

"  I  know  not  why,  but  ever  the  vow  of  Jephthah 
comes  to  my  mind  as  I  remember  how  we  rode  up 
the  valley  to  Count  Ugo's  house  in  the  hour  before 
sunset.  *  And  behold,  his  daughter  came  out  to  meet 
him  with  timbrels  and  with  dances,  and  she  was  his 
only  child.'  He  had  made  no  vow  and  was  incapable, 
poor  man,  of  keeping  any  so  heroic;  and  she  came 
out  with  no  timbrel  or  dance,  but  soberly  enough  in 
her  sad-coloured  dress  of  the  people.  Yet  she  came 
out  while  we  rode  a  good  mile  off,  and  waited  for 

96 


AN    ARMY    AND    AN    INVASION 

us  as  we  climbed  the  last  slope,  and  she  was  his  only 
child. 

"  How  shall  I  tell  you  of  her  ?  She  helped  my 
purpose  nothing,  for  at  first  she  was  vehemently  op- 
posed to  her  father's  consenting  to  be  king.  Her 
politics  she  derived  in  part  from  the  reading  of 
Plutarch's  Lives  and  in  part  from  her  own  sim- 
plicity. They  were  childish,  utterly:  yet  they  put 
me  to  shame,  for  they  glowed  with  the  purest  love 
of  her  country.  She  has  walked  on  fiery  plougli- 
shares  since  then ;  she  has  trodden  the  furnace,  and 
her  beautiful  bare  feet  are  seared  since  they  trod  the 
cool  vintage  with  me  on  the  slopes  above  the  Taravo 
.  .  .  Priske,  open  the  first  of  those  bottles,  yonder, 
with  the  purple  seal !  Here  is  that  very  wine,  my 
friends.  Pour  and  hold  it  up  to  the  sunset  before  you 
taste.  Had  ever  wine  such  a  royal  heart  ?  I  will  tell 
you  how  to  grow  it.  Choose  first  of  all  a  vineyard 
facing  south,  between  mountains  and  the  sea.  Let 
it  lie  so  that  it  drinks  the  sun  the  day  through ;  but 
let  the  protecting  mountains  carry  perpetual  snow 
to  cool  the  land  breeze  all  the  niglit.  Having  chosen 
your  site,  drench  it  for  two  hundred  years  with  the 
blood  of  freemen;  drench  it  so  deep  that  no  tai>root 
can  reach  down  below  its  fertilising  virtue.  Plant 
it  in  defeat,  and  harvest  it  in  liope,  grape  by  grape, 
fearfully,  as  though  the  bloom  on  each  were  a  state's 

97 


SIR    JOHI^^    CONSTANTINE 

ransom.  Isext  treat  it  after  the  recipe  of  the  wine 
of  Cos ;  dropping  the  grapes  singly  into  vats  of  sea 
water,  drawn  in  stone  jars  from  full  fifteen  fathoms 
in  a  spell  of  halcyon  weather  and  left  to  stand  for 
the  space  of  one  moon.  Drop  them  in,  one  by  one, 
until  the  water  scarcely  covers  the  mass.  Let  stand 
again  for  two  days,  and  then  call  for  your  maidens 
to  tread  them,  with  hymns,  under  the  new  moon. 
Ah,  and  yet  you  may  miss !  For  your  maidens  must 
be  clean,  and  yet  fierce  as  though  they  trod  out  the 
hearts  of  men,  as  indeed  they  do.  A  king's  daughter 
should  lead  them,  and  they  must  trample  with  inno- 
cence, and  yet  with  such  fury  as  the  prophet's  who 
said  '  their  blood  shall  be  sprinkled  upon  my  gar- 
ments, and  I  will  stain  all  my  raiment:  for  the  day 
of  vengeance  is  in  my  heart,  and  the  year  of  my 
redeemed  is  come  '  .  .  ." 

My  father  lifted  his  glass.  "  To  thee,  Emilia, 
child  and  queen !  " 

He  drank,  and,  setting  down  his  glass,  rested  silent 
for  a  while,  his  eyes  full  of  a  solemn  rapture. 

"  My  friends,"  he  went  on  at  length  with  lowered 
voice,  "  know  you  that  old  song? 

"  Methought  I  walked  still  to  and  fro, 
And  from  her  company  could  not  go — 
But  when  I  waked  it  was  not  so: 

In  youth  is  pleasure,  in  youth  is  pleasure. 

98 


AN  ARMY    AND    AX    INVASION 

"  All  that  autumn  I  spent  under  her  father's  roof, 
and — my  leave  having  been  extended — all  the  win- 
ter following.  The  old  Count  had  convinced  himself 
by  this  time  that  by  accepting  the  crown  he  would 
confer  a  signal  service  on  Corsica,  and  had  opened 
a  lengthy  correspondence  with  the  two  Paolis,  whose 
hesitation  to  accept  this  view  at  once  puzzled  and 
annoyed  him.  For  me,  I  wished  the  correspond- 
ence might  be  prolonged  for  ever,  for  meanwhile 
I  lived  my  days  in  company  with  Emilia,  and  we 
loved. 

"  I  was  a  fool.  Yet  I  cannot  tax  myself  that  I 
played  false  to  duty,  though  by  helping  to  crown 
her  father  I  was  destroying  my  own  hopes,  since  as 
heiress  to  his  throne  Emilia  must  be  far  removed 
from  me.  We  scarcely  thought  of  this,  but  lived  in 
our  love,  we  two.  So  the  winter  passed  and  the 
spring  came  and  the  macchia  burst  into  flower. 

"  Prosper,  you  have  never  set  eyes  on  the  macchia, 
the  glory  of  your  kingdom.  But  you  shall  behold 
it  soon,  lad,  and  smell  it — for  its  fragrance  spreads 
around  the  island  and  far  out  to  sea.  It  belts  Corsica 
with  verdure  and  a  million  million  flowers — cistus 
and  myrtle  and  broom  and  juniper;  clematis  and 
vetch  and  wild  roses  run  mad.  Deeper  than  the  tall 
forests  behind  it,  the  macchia  will  liido  two  lovers, 
and  under  the  open  sky  hedge  off  all  the  world  but 

99 


SIR    JOH^^T    CONSTAiSTTINE 

their  passion  ...  In  the  macchia  we  roamed  to- 
gether, day  after  day,  and  forgot  the  world ;  forgot 
all  but  honour;  for  she,  my  lady,  was  a  child  of 
sixteen,  and  as  her  knight  I  worshipped  her.  Ah, 
those  days !  those  scented  days ! 

"  But  while  we  loved  and  Count  Ugo  wrote  letters, 
the  two  Paolis  were  doing;  and  by  and  by  they 
played  the  strangest  stroke  in  all  Corsica's  history. 
That  spring,  at  Aleria  on  the  east  coast,  there  landed 
a  man  of  whom  the  Corsicans  had  never  heard.  He 
came  out  of  nowhere  with  a  single  ship  and  less  than 
a  score  of  attendants — to  be  precise,  two  officers,  a 
priest,  a  secretary,  a  major-domo,  an  under-steward, 
a  cook,  three  Tunisian  slaves,  and  six  lackeys.  He 
had  sailed  from  Algiers,  with  a  brief  rest  in  the  port 
of  Leghorn,  and  he  stepped  ashore  in  Turkish  dress, 
with  scarlet-lined  cloak,  turban,  and  scimitar.  He 
called  himself  Theodore,  a  baron  of  Westphalia,  and 
he  brought  with  him  a  shipload  of  arms  and  am- 
munition, a  thousand  zechins  of  Tunis,  and  letters 
from  half  a  dozen  of  the  Great  Powers  promising  as- 
sistance. Whether  these  were  genuine  or  not,  I  can- 
not tell  you. 

"  Led  by  the  two  Paolis — this  is  no  fairy  tale,  my 
friends — the  Corsicans  welcomed  and  proclaimed 
him  king,  without  even  waiting  for  despatches  from 
Count    Rivarola    (who    had    negotiated)    to    inform 

100 


AN  AKMY    AND    AN    INVASION 

them  of  the  terms  agreed  upon.  They  led  him  in 
triumph  to  Corte,  and  there,  in  their  ancient  capital, 
crowned  and  anointed  him.  He  gave  laws,  issued 
edicts,  struck  money,  distributed  rewards.  He  put 
himself  in  person  at  the  head  of  the  militia,  and 
blocked  up  the  Genoese  in  their  fortified  towns.  For 
a  few  months  he  swept  the  island  like  a  conqueror. 

"  All  this,  as  you  may  suppose,  utterly  discon- 
certed the  Count  Ugo  Colonna,  who  saw  his  dreams 
topple  at  one  stroke  into  the  dust.  But  the  chiefs 
found  a  way  to  reconcile  him.  Their  new  King 
Theodore  must  marry  and  found  a  dynasty.  Let  a 
bride  be  found  for  him  in  Colonna's  daughter,  and 
let  children  be  born  to  him  of  the  best  blood  in 
Corsica. 

"  The  Count  recovered  his  good  temper ;  his  spirits 
rose  at  a  bound :  he  embraced  the  offer.  His  grand- 
sons should  be  kings  of  Corsica.  And  she — my 
Emilia 

"  We  met  once — once  only — after  her  father  had 
broken  the  news  to  her.  He  had  not  asked  her  con- 
sent: he  had  told  her,  in  a  flutter  of  pride,  that  this 
thing  must  be,  and  for  her  country's  sake.  She  came 
to  me,  in  the  short  dusk,  upon  the  terrace  overlook- 
ing the  Taravo.  She  was  of  heart  too  heroic  to 
linger  out  our  agony.  In  the  dusk  she  stretched  out 
both  hands — ah,  God,  the  child  she  looked !  so  help- 

101 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

less,  so  brave ! — and  I  caught  them  and  kissed  them. 
Then  she  was  gone. 

"  A  week  later  they  married  her  to  King  Theodore 
in  the  Cathedral  of  Corte,  and  crowned  her  beside 
him.  Before  the  winter  he  left  the  island  and  sailed 
to  Holland  to  raise  moneys;  for  the  promises  of  the 
Great  Powers  had  come  to  nothing,  even  if  they  were 
genuinely  given.  For  myself,  I  had  bidden  good-bye 
to  Corsica  and  sailed  for  Tuscany  on  the  same  day 
that  he  was  married. 

"  ISTow  I  must  tell  you  that  on  the  eve  of  sailing 
I  wrote  a  letter  to  the  queen — as  queen  she  would 
be  by  the  time  it  reached  her — wishing  her  all  hap- 
piness and  adding  that  if,  in  the  time  to  come,  fate 
should  bring  her  into  poverty  or  danger,  my  estate 
and  my  life  would  ever  be  at  her  service.  To  this 
I  received^  as  I  had  expected,  no  answer :  nor  did  she, 
if  ever  she  received  it,  impart  its  contents  to  her 
husband.  He — the  rascal — had  a  genius  for  borrow- 
ing, and  yet  'twas  I  that  had  to  begin  by  seeking 
him  out  to  feed  him  with  money. 

"  ISTews  came  to  me  that  he  was  in  straits  in  Hol- 
land, and  had  for  a  year  been  drumming  the  banks 
in  vain :  also  that  the  Genoese,  whom  his  incursion 
had  merely  confounded,  were  beginning  to  lift  their 
heads  and  take  the  offensive  again.  At  first  he  had 
terrified  them  like  a  mad  dog;  the  one  expedient  they 

102 


AN  ARMY    AND    AN   INVASION 

could  hit  on  was  to  set  a  price  upon  his  head.  Cer- 
tainly he  had  gifts.  He  contrived — and  by  sheer 
audacity,  mark  you,  backed  by  a  fine  presence — to 
drive  them  into  such  a  panic  that,  months  after  he 
had  sailed,  they  were  petitioning  France  to  send  over 
troops  to  help  them.  Tlie  Corsicans  sent  a  counter- 
embassy.  '  If,'  said  they  to  King  Louis,  '  your 
^lajesty  force  us  to  yield  to  Genoa,  then  let  us  drink 
this  bitter  cup  to  the  health  of  the  Most  Christian 
King,  and  die.'  King  Louis  admired  the  speech  but 
nibbled  at  the  opportunity.  Our  own  Government 
meanwhile  had  either  lost  heart  or  suffered  itself  to 
be  i^ersuaded  by  the  Genoese  Minister  in  London. 
In  the  July  after  my  Emilia's  marriage,  our  late 
Queen  Caroline,  as  regent  for  the  time  of  Great 
Britain,  issued  a  proclamation  forbidding  any  sub- 
ject of  King  George  to  furnish  arms  or  provisions  to 
the  Corsican  malcontents. 

"  And  now  you  know,  my  dear  Prosper,  why  I  cast 
away  the  career  on  which  I  had  started  with  some 
ambition.  My  lady  lacked  help,  which  as  a  British 
subject  I  was  prohibited  from  offering.  My  con- 
science allowed  me  to  disobey :  but  not  to  disobey  and 
eat  his  Majesty's  bread.  I  fiung  up  my  post,  and 
as  a  private  man  hunted  across  Europe  for  King 
Theodore. 

"  I  ran  him  to  earth  in  Amsterdam.     He  was  in 

103 


SIR    JOHI^    CONSTANTINE 

handsome  lodgings,  but  penniless.  It  was  the  first 
time  I  had  conversed  with  him ;  and  he,  I  believe, 
had  never  seen  my  face.  I  found  him  affable,  spe- 
cious, sanguine,  but  hollow  as  a  drum.  For  her  sake 
I  took  up  and  renewed  the  campaign  among  the  Jew 
bankers. 

"  To  be  short,  he  sailed  back  for  Corsica  in  a  "well- 
found  ship,  with  cannon  and  ammunition  on  board, 
and  some  specie — the  whole  cargo  worth  between 
twenty  and  thirty  thousand  pounds.  He  made  a 
landing  at  Tavagna  and  threw  in  almost  all  his  war- 
like stores.  His  wife  hurried  to  meet  him:  but 
after  a  week,  finding  that  the  French  were  pouring 
troops  into  the  island,  and  becoming  (they  tell  me) ' 
suddenly  nervous  of  the  price  on  his  head,  he  sailed 
away  almost  without  warning.  They  say  also  that 
on  the  passage  he  murdered  the  man  whom  his  cred- 
itors had  forced  him  to  take  as  supercargo,  sold  the 
vessel  at  Leghorn,  and  made  off  with  the  specie — 
no  penny  of  which  had  reached  his  queen  or  his  poor 
subjects.  She — sad  childless  soul — driven  with  her 
chiefs  and  counsellors  into  the  mountains  before  the 
combined  French  and  Genoese,  escaped  a  year  later 
to  Tuscany,  and  hid  herself  with  her  sorrows  in  a 
religious  house  ten  miles  from  Florence. 

"  So  ended  this   brief  reign :   and  you,   Prosper, 
have  met  the  chief  actor  in  it.     A  very  few  words 

104 


AN  ARMY    AND    AN    INVASION 

will  tell  the  rest.  The  French  overran  the  island 
until  '41,  when  the  business  of  the  Austrian  succes- 
sion forced  them  to  withdraw  their  troops  and  leave 
the  Genoese  once  more  face  to  face  with  the  islanders. 
Promptly  these  rose  again.  Giafferi  and  Hyacinth 
Paoli  had  fled  to  Naples;  Hyacinth  with  two  sons, 
Pascal  and  Clement,  whom  he  trained  there  (as  I 
am  told)  in  all  the  liberal  arts  and  in  undying 
hatred  of  the  Genoese.  These  two  lads,  returning 
to  the  island,  took  up  their  father's  fight,  and  have 
maintained  it,  with  fair  success  as  I  learn.  From 
parts  of  the  island  they  must  have  completely  ex- 
truded the  enemy  for  a  while;  since  my  lady  made 
bold,  four  years  ago,  to  settle  these  visitors  of  ours 
in  her  palace  above  the  Taravo.  It  would  appear, 
however,  that  the  Genoese  have  gathered  head  again, 
and  his  business  with  them  may  explain  why  Pascal 
Paoli  has  not  answered  the  letter  I  addressed  to  him, 
these  eight  months  since,  notifying  my  son's  claim 
upon  the  succession.  Or  he  may  have  reckoned  it 
indecent  of  me  to  address  him  in  lieu  of  his  queen, 
who  had  returned  to  the  island.  I  had  not  heard  of 
her  return.  I  heard  of  it  to-day  for  the  first  time, 
and  of  her  peril,  which  shall  hurry  us  ten  times 
faster  than  our  pretensions.  Prosper,"  my  father 
concluded,  "  we  must  invade  Corsica,  and  at  once.'' 
''  Good  Lord  !  "  exclaimed  my  uncle.     "  How  ?  " 

105 


SIE    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

"  In  a  ship,"  my  father  answered  him  as  simply. 
"  How  otherwise  ?  " 

Said  my  uncle,  "  But  where  is  your  ship  ?  " 

Answered  my  father,  "  If  you  will  but  step  outside 
and  pick  up  one  of  these  fir-cones  in  the  grass,  you 
can  almost  toss  it  on  to  her  deck.  She  is  called  the 
Gauntlet,  and  her  skipper  is  Captain  Jo  Pomery. 
I  might  have  racked  my  brain  for  a  month  to  find 
as  good  a  skipper  or  a  ship  so  well  found  and  hap- 
pily named  as  these  which  Providence  has  brought 
to  my  door.  I  attach  particular  importance  to  the 
name  of  a  ship." 

My  uncle  ran  his  hands  through  his  hair.  "  But 
to  invade  a  kingdom,"  he  protested,  "  you  will  need 
also  an  army !  " 

"  Certainly.     I  must  find  one." 

"  But  where  ?  " 

"  It  must  be  somewhere  in  the  neighbourhood,  and 
within  twentj^-four  hours,"  replied  my  father  imper- 
turbably.     "  Time  presses." 

"  But  an  army  must  be  paid.  You  have  not  only 
to  raise  one,  but  to  find  the  money  to  support  it." 

"  You  put  me  in  mind  of  an  old  German  tale," 
said  my  father,  helping  himself  to  wine.  "  Once 
upon  a  time  there  were  three  brothers — but  since, 
my  dear  Gervase,  you  show  signs  of  impatience,  I 
will  confine  myself  to  the  last  and  luckiest  one.     On 

106 


AN  ARMY    AND    AN    INVASION 

his  travels,  which  I  will  not  pause  to  describe  in 
detail,  he  acquired  three  gifts — a  knapsack  which, 
when  opened,  discharged  a  regiment  of  grenadiers ;  a 
cloth  which,  when  spread,  was  covered  with  a  meal ; 
and  a  purse  which,  when  shaken,  filled  itself  with 
money." 

"  Will  you  be  serious,  brother  ?  "  cried  my  uncle. 

"  I  am  entirely  serious !  "  answered  my  father. 
"  The  problem  of  an  army  and  its  pay  I  propose  to 
solve  by  enlisting  volimteers;  and  the  difficulty  of 
feeding  my  troops  (I  had  forgotten  it  and  thank  you 
for  reminding  me)  will  be  minimised  by  enlisting 
as  few  as  possible.  Myself  and  Prosper  make  two; 
Priske,  here,  three;  I  would  fain  have  you  accom- 
pany us,  Gervase,  but  the  estate  cannot  spare  you. 
Let  me  see — "  He  drummed  for  a  moment  on  the 
table  with  his  fingers.  "  We  ought  to  have  four  more 
at  least,  to  make  a  show:  and  seven  is  a  lucky 
number." 

"  You  seriously  design,"  my  uncle  demanded,  "  to 
invade  the  island  of  Corsica  with  an  army  of  seven 
persons  ?  " 

"  Most  seriously  I  do.  For  consider.  To  begin 
with,  this  Theodore — a  vain,  hollow  man — brought 
but  sixteen,  including  many  non-combatants,  and  yet 
succeeded  in  winning  a  croA\Ti.  You  will  allow  that 
to  win  a  crown  is  a  harder  feat  than  to  succeed  to  one. 

107 


SIE    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

On  Avhat  reckoning  then^  or  by  what  Riile-of -Three 
sum,  should  Prosper,  who  goes  to  claim  what  already 
belongs  to  him,  need  more  than  seven  ? 

"  Further,"  my  father  continued,  "  it  may  well 
be  argued  that  the  fewer  he  takes  the  better;  since 
we  sail  not  against  the  Corsicans  but  against  their 
foes,  and  therefore  should  count  on  finding  in  every 
Corsican  a  soldier  for  our  standard. 

"  Thirdly,  the  Corsicans  are  a  touchy  race,  whom 
it  would  be  impolitic  to  offend  with  a  show  of  foreign 
strength. 

"  Fourthly,  we  must  look  a  little  beyond  the  im- 
mediate enterprise,  and  not  (if  we  can  help  it)  saddle 
Prosper's  kingdom  with  a  standing  army.  For,  as 
Bacon  advises,  that  state  stands  in  danger  whose 
warriors  remain  in  a  body  and  are  used  to  donatives ; 
whereof  we  see  examples  in  the  Turk's  Janissaries 
and  the  Pretorian  Bands  of  Rome. 

"  And  fifthly,  we  have  neither  the  time  nor  the 
money  to  collect  a  stronger  force.  The  occasion 
presses;  and  fronte  capillata  est,  post  Jicec  Occasio 
calva:  Time  turns  a  bald  head  to  us  if  we  miss  our 
moment  to  catch  him  by  the  forelock." 

"  The  Abantes,"  put  in  Mr.  Grylls,  "  practised  the 
direct  contrary:  of  whom  Homer  tells  us  that  they 
shaved  the  forepart  of  their  heads,  the  reason  being 
that  thoir  enemies  might  not  gi'ip  them  by  the  hair 

108 


A.\  AILMY    AND    AN    INVASION 

in  close  fighting.  I  regret,  my  dear  Constantine,  you 
never  warned  me  that  you  designed  Prosper  for  a 
military  career.  We  might  have  bestowed  more  at- 
tention on  the  warlike  customs  and  operations  of  the 
ancients." 

My  father  sipped  his  wine  and  regarded  the  Vicar 
benevolently.  For  closest  friends  he  had  two  of  the 
most  irrelevant  thinkers  on  earth  and  he  delighted 
to  distinguish  between  their  irrelevancies. 

"  But  I  would  not/'  he  continued,  "  have  you 
doubt  that  the  prime  cause  of  our  expedition  is  to 
deliver  my  lady  from  the  Genoese;  or  believe  that 
Prosper  will  press  his  claims  unless  she  acknowledge 
them." 

"  I  am  Avondering,"  said  my  uncle,  "  where  you 
will  find  your  other  four  men." 

"  Prosper  and  I  will  provide  them  to-morrow,"  my 
father  answered  with  a  careless  glance  at  me.  "  And 
now,  my  friends,  we  have  talked  overlong  of  Corsica 
and  nothing  as  yet  of  that  companionship  which 
brings  us  here — it  may  be  for  the  last  time.  Priske, 
you  may  open  another  four  bottles  and  leave  us. 
Gervase,  take  down  the  book  from  the  cupboard  and 
let  the  Vicar  read  to  us  while  the  light  allows." 

"  The  marker  tells  me,"  said  the  Vicar,  taking  the 
book  and  opening  it,  "  that  we  left  off  in  the  midst  of 
Chapter  8 — On  the  Luce  or  Fike.^' 

109 


SIR    JOIIX    COXSTAXTIXE 

"  Ay,  and  so  I  remember,"  my  uncle  agreed. 
The  Vicar  began  to  read : 

And  for  your  dead  bait  for  a  pike,  for  that  you  may  be 
taught  by  one  day's  going  a-fishing  Avith  me  or  any  other 
body  that  fishes  for  him ;  for  the  baiting  of  your  hook  with  a 
dead  gudgeon  or  a  roach  and  moving  it  up  and  down  the 
water  is  too  easy  a  thing  to  take  up  any  time  to  direct  you  to 
do  it.  And  yet,  because  I  cut  you  short  in  that,  I  will  com- 
mute for  it  by  teUing  you  that  that  was  told  me  for  a  secret. 
It  is  this:  Dissolve  gum  of  ivy  in  oil  of  spike,  and  therewith 
anoint  your  dead  bait  for  a  pike,  and  then  cast  it  into  a  likely 
place,  and  when  it  has  lain  a  short  time  at  the  bottom,  draw 
it  towards  the  top  of  the  water  and  so  up  the  stream,  and  it 
is  more  than  hkely  that  you  have  a  pike  follow  with  more 
than  common  eagerness.  And  some  affirm  that  any  bait 
anointed  with  the  marrow  of  the  thigh-bone  of  a  heron  is  a 
great  temptation  to  any  fish. 

These  have  not  been  tried  by  me,  but  told  me  by  a  friend 
of  mine,  that  pretended  to  do  me  a  courtesy.  But  if  this 
direction  to  catch  a  pike  thus  do  you  no  good,  yet  I  am 
certain  this  direction  how  to  roast  him  when  he  is  caught  is 
choicely  good 

"  Upon  my  soul,  brother,"  interrupted  my  uncle 
Gervase,  removing  the  pipe  from  his  mouth,  "  this 
reads  like  a  direction  for  the  taking  of  Corsica." 


110 


CHAPTER    VII 

THE    COMPANY    OF    THE    ROSE 

Alway  be  merry  if  thou  may, 
But  waste  not  thy  good  alway: 
Have  hat  of  floures  fresh  as  May, 
Chapelet  of  roses  of  Whitsonday 
For  sich  array  ne  costneth  but  lyte. 

— Romaunt  of  the  Rose. 

Somerset.  Let  him  that  is  no  coward 

Pluck  a  red  rose  from  off  this  thorn  with  me. 

— First  Part  of  King  Henry  VI. 

Early  next  morning  I  was  returning,  a  rosebud 
in  my  hand,  from  the  neglected  garden  to  the  east 
of  the  house,  when  I  spied  my  father  coming  towards 
me  along  the  terraces,  and  at  once  felt  my  ears 
redden. 

"  Good  morning,  lad !  "  he  hailed.  "  But  where  is 
mine  ?  " 

I  turned  back  in  silence  and  picked  a  bud  for  him. 
"  So,"  said  I,  "  'twas  you,  sir,  after  all,  that  wrote 
the  advertisement  ?  " 

"  Hey  ?  "  he  answered.  "  I  ?  Certainly  not.  I 
noted  it  and  sent  you  the  news-sheet  in  half  a  hope 
that  vou  had  been  the  advertiser." 

4/ 

111 


SIR    JOH^T    CONSTAJv^TIXE 

"You  were  mistaken,  sir." 

He  halted  and  rubbed  his  chin.  "  Then  who  the 
devil  can  he  be,  I  wonder  ?    Well,  we  shall  discover." 

"  You  ride  to  Falmouth  this  morning  ?  " 

"  We  have  an  army  to  collect,"  he  answered,  grip- 
ping me  not  unkindly  by  the  shoulder. 

We  rode  into  Falmouth  side  by  side,  Billy  Priske 
following,  by  my  father's  command,  and  each  with 
a  red  rose  pinned  to  the  flap  of  his  hat.  Upon  the 
way  we  talked,  mainly  of  the  Trappist  Brothers,  and 
of  Dom  Basilio,  who  (it  seemed)  had  at  one  time 
been  an  agent  of  the  British  legation  at  Florence, 
and  in  particular  had  carried  my  father's  reports 
and  instructions  to  and  fro  between  Corsica  and  that 
city,  avoiding  the  vigilance  of  the  Genoese. 

"  A  subtle  fellow,"  was  my  father's  judgment, 
"  and,  as  I  gave  him  credit,  in  the  matter  of  con- 
science as  null  as  Cellini  himself:  the  last  man  in 
the  world  to  turn  religious.  But  the  longer  you  live 
the  more  cause  will  you  find  to  wonder  at  the  divine 
spirit  which  bloweth  where  it  listeth.  Take  these 
Methodists,  who  are  to  preach  in  Falmouth  to-day. 
I  have  seen  Wesley,  and  stood  once  for  an  hour  listen- 
ing to  him.  For  aught  I  could  discover  he  had  no 
great  eloquence.  He  said  little  that  his  audience 
might  not  have  lieard  any  Sunday  in  their  own 
churches.     His  voice  was  hoarse  from  overwork,  and 

112 


TlIK    COMPAXY    OF    THE    HOSE 

his  manner  by  no  means  winning.  Yet  T  saw  many 
notorions  ruffians  sobbing  about  Iiini  like  children: 
some  even  throwing  themselves  on  the  ground  and 
writhing,  like  the  demoniacs  of  Scripture.  The  se- 
cret was,  he  spoke  with  authority:  and  the  secret 
again  was  a  certain  obtuseness — he  appeared  not  to 
see  those  signs  by  which  other  men  judge  their  neigh- 
bours or  themselves  to  be  past  help.  Or  take  these 
Trappists :  Dom  Basilio  tells  me  that  more  than  half 
of  them  are  ex-soldiers  and  rough  at  that.  To  be 
sure  I  can  understand  why,  having  once  turned  re- 
ligious, an  old  soldier  runs  to  the  Trappist  rule.  He 
has  been  bred  under  discipline,  and  has  to  rely 
on  discipline.  'Tis  what  he  understands,  and  the 
harder  he  gets  it  the  more  good  he  feels  himself 
getting " 

We  were  nearing  the  town  by  the  way  of  Arwen- 
nack,  and  just  here  a  turn  of  the  road  brought  us 
in  sight  of  a  whitewashed  cottage  and  put  a  period 
to  my  father's  discourse,  as  a  garden  gate  flew  open 
and  out  into  the  highway  ran  a  lean  young  man 
with  an  angry  woman  in  pursuit.  His  shoulders 
were  bent  and  he  put  up  both  hands  to  ward  off  her 
clutch.  But  in  the  middle  of  the  road  she  gripped 
him  by  the  collar  and  caught  him  two  sound  cuffs  on 
the  nape  of  the  neck. 

She  turned  as  we  rode  up.     "  The  villain !  "  she 

113 


SIR    JOHX    COXSTAXTIXE 

cried,  still  keeping  her  grip.  "  Oh,  protect  me  from 
such  villains !  " 

"  But,  my  good  woman,"  remonstrated  my  father, 
reining  up,  "  it  scarcely  appears  that  you  need  pro- 
tecting.    Who  is  this  man  ?  " 

"  A  thief,  your  honour !  Didn't  I  catch  him 
prowling  into  my  garden?  And  isn't  it  for  him  to 
say  what  his  business  was  ?  I  put  it  to  your  honour  " 
— here  she  caught  the  poor  wretch  another  cuff — 
"  what  honest  business  took  him  into  my  garden,  and 
me  left  a  widow-woman  these  sixteen  vears  ?  " 

"  Ai-ee !  "  cried  the  accused,  still  shielding  his 
neck  and  cowering  in  the  dust — a  thin,  ragged  windle- 
straw  of  a  youth,  flaxen-headed,  hatchet-faced,  with 
eyes  set  like  a  hare's.  "  Have  pity  on  me,  sirs,  and 
take  her  off !  " 

"  Let  him  stand  up,"  my  father  commanded. 
''  And  you,  sir,  tell  me — What  were  you  seeking  in 
this  good  woman's  garden  ?  " 

"  A  rose,  sir — hear  my  defence ! — a  rose  only,  a 
small  rose !  "  His  voice  was  high  and  cracked,  and 
he  flung  his  hands  out  extravagantly.  "  Oh,  York 
and  Lancaster — if  you  will  excuse  me,  gentlemen — 
that  I  should  suffer  this  for  a  mere  rose !  The  day 
only  just  begun  too!  And  why,  sirs,  was  I  seeking 
a  rose  ?  Ay,  there's  the  rub."  He  folded  his  arms 
dramatically  and  nodded  at  the  woman.     "  There's 

114 


THE    COMPANY    OF    THE    ROSE 

the  gall  and  hitterness,  the  worm  in  the  fruit,  the 
peculiar  irony — if  you'll  allow  me  to  say  so — of  this 
distressing  affair.  Listen,  madam,  if  I  w^antcd  a 
rose  of  you,  'twas  for  your  whole  sex's  sake :  your 
sex's,  madam — every  one  of  whom  was,  up  to  five 
or  six  months  ago,  the  object  with  me  of  something 
very  nearly  allied  to  worship." 

"  Lord  help  the  creature !  "  cried  the  woman. 
"What's  he  telling  about?  And  what  have  you  to 
do  with  my  sex,  young  man  ?  which  is  what  the  Lord 
made  it." 

"It  is  not,  madam.  Make  no  mistake  about  it: 
'twere  blasphemy  to  think  so.  But  speaking  gener- 
ally, what  I — as  a  man — have  to  do  with  your  sex 
is  to  protect  it." 

"  A  nice  sort  of  protector  you'd  make !  "  she  re- 
torted, planting  her  knuckles  on  her  hips  and  eyeing 
him  contemptuously. 

"  I  am  a  beginner,  madam,  and  have  much  to 
learn.  But  you  shall  not  discourage  me  from  pro- 
tecting you,  though  you  deny  me  the  rose  which  was 
to  have  been  my  emblem.  Every  woman  is  a  rose, 
madam,  as  says  the  poet  Dunbar — 

"  Sweet  rose  of  vertew  and  of  gentilness, 
Richest  in  bonty  and  in  bewty  clear 
And  every  vertew  that  is  werrit  dear, 
Except  only  that  ye  are  nierciless 

115 


SIR    JOHX    COXSTANTINE 

"You  take  me?      'Merciless,'  madam?" 

"  I  don't  understand  a  word,"  said  she,  puzzled 

and  angry. 

"  He  was  a  Scotsman :  and  you  find  it  a  far  cry 

to  Loch  Awe.    Well,  well — to  resume — 


"  Into  your  garth  this  day  I  did  pursue 

by  '  garth '  meaning  '  garden  '  :  a  good  word,  and 
why  the  devil  it  should  be  obsolescent  is  more  than 
I  can  tell  you " 

But  here  my  father  cut  him  short.  "  My  good 
Mrs.  Ede,"  said  he,  turning  to  the  woman,  "  I  believe 
this  young  man  intended  no  harm  to  you  and  very 
little  to  your  garden.  You  are  quits  with  him  at 
any  rate.  Take  this  shilling,  step  inside,  and  choose 
him  a  fair  red  rose  for  the  price  and  also  in  token 
of  your  forgiveness,  while  he  picks  up  his  hat  which 
is  lying  yonder  in  the  dust." 

"Hey?"  The  youth  started  back,  for  the  first 
time  perceiving  the  badges  in  our  hats.  "  Are  you 
too,  sirs,  of  this  company  of  the  rose  ?  "  His  face 
fell,  but  with  an  effort  he  recovered  himself  and 
smiled. 

"  You  are  not  disappointed,  I  hope  ?  "  inquired 
mv  father. 

"  Why — to  tell  you  the  truth,  sir — I  had  looked 
for    a    rendezvous    of   careless   jolly   fellows.      For 

116 


THE    COMPANY    OF    THE    liOSE 

cavaliers  of  your  quality  it  never  occurred  to  me 
to  bargain."  He  held  np  a  flap  of  his  ragged  coat 
and  shook  it  rnefiilly. 

My  father  frowned.  "  And  I,  sir,  am  disap- 
pointed. A  moment  since  I  took  you  for  an  original ; 
but  it  appears  you  share  our  common  English  vice 
of  looking  at  the  world  like  a  lackey." 

"  I,  sir  ?  "  The  young  man  waved  a  hand.  "  I 
an  original  ?  Give  me  leave  to  assure  you  that  this 
island  contains  no  more  servile  tradesman.  Why,  my 
lord — for  I  take  it  I  speak  to  a  gentleman  of 
title ?" 

"  Of  the  very  humblest,  sir.  I  am  a  plain  knight 
bachelor." 

The  original  cringed  elaborately,  rubbing  his 
hands.  "  A  title  is  a  title.  Well,  sir,  as  I  was  about 
to  say,  I  worship  a  lord,  but  my  whole  soul  is  bound 
up  in  a  ledger:  and  hence  (so  to  speak)  these  tears: 
hence  the  disreputable  garb  in  which  you  behold  me. 
If  I  may  walk  beside  you,  sir,  after  this  good  woman 
has  fetched  me  the  rose — thank  vou,  madam — and 
provided  me  with  a  pin  from  the  chevaux  de  frise  in 
her  bodice — and  again,  madam,  I  thank  you :  you 
wear  the  verv  cuirass  of  matronlv  virtue — I  should 
enjoy,  sir,  to  tell  you  my  history.  It  is  a  somewhat 
curious  one." 

"  I    feel    sure,    sir " — mv    father   bowed    to    him 

117 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTIKE 

from  the  saddle — ''  it  will  lose  nothing  in  the  tell- 
ing." 

The  young  man,  having  fastened  the  rose  in  his 
hat,  bade  adieu  to  his  late  assailant  with  a  bow; 
waved  a  hand  to  her ;  lifted  his  hat  a  second  time ; 
turned  after  us  and,  falling  into  stride  by  my  father's 
stirrup,  forthwith  plunged  into  his  story. 

The  Travels  of  Phineas  Fett 

"  My  name,  sir,  is  Phineas  Fett " 

He  paused.  "  I  don't  know  how  it  may  strike 
you :  but  in  my  infant  ears  it  ever  seemed  to  f or- 
bode  something  in  the  Admiralty — a  comfortable 
post,  carrying  no  fame  with  it,  but  moderately  lucra- 
tive. In  wilder  flights  my  fancy  has  hovered  over 
the  Pipe  Office  (Addison,  sir,  was  a  fine  writer; 
though  a  bit  of  a  prig,  between  you  and  me)." 

"  There  was  a  Phineas  Pett,  a  great  shipbuilder 
for  the  iSTavy  in  King  Charles  the  Second's  time.  I 
believe,  too,  he  had  a  son  christened  after  him,  who 
became  a  commissioner  of  the  Navy." 

"  You  don't  say  so !  The  mere  accident  of  a  let- 
ter .  .  .  but  it  proves  the  accuracy  of  our  childish 
instincts.  A  commissionership — whatever  the  duties 
it  may  carry — would  be  the  very  thing,  or  a  store- 
keepership,  with  a  number  of  ledgers :  it  being  un- 

118 


THE    COMPANY    OF    TlIP]    ROSE 

derstood  that  shipping  formed  my  background,  in 
what  I  believe  is  naiiticallj  termed  the  offing.  I 
know  not  what  exact  distance  constitutes  an  offing. 
My  imagination  ever  placed  it  within  sight  and  suffi- 
ciently near  the  scene  of  my  occupation  to  pervade 
it  with  an  odour  of  hemp  and  tar." 

He  paused  again,  glanced  up  at  my  father,  and — 
on  a  nod  of  encouragement — continued : 

"  The  nuisance  is,  I  was  bom  in  the  Midlands — 
to  be  precise,  at  West  Bromicheham — the  son  of  a 
well-to-do  manufacturer  of  artificial  jewellery.  The 
only  whiff  of  the  brine  that  ever  penetrated  my 
father's  office  came  wafted  through  an  off-channel  of 
his  trade.  He  did  an  intermittent  business  in  the 
gilding  of  small  idols,  to  be  shipped  overseas  and 
traded  as  objects  of  worship  among  the  negroes  of 
the  American  plantations.  Jewellery,  however,  was 
his  stand-by.  In  the  manufacture  of  meretricious 
ware  he  had  a  plausibility  amounting  to  genius,  in 
the  disposing  of  it  a  talent  for  hard  bargains;  and 
the  two  together  had  landed  him  in  affluence.  Well, 
sir,  being  headed  off  my  boyhood's  dream  by  the  geo- 
graphical inconvenience  of  Warwickshire — for  a  lad 
may  run  away  to  be  a  sailor,  sir,  but  the  devil  take 
me  if  ever  I  heard  of  one  running  off  to  be  a  super- 
cargo, and  even  this  lay  a  bit  beyond  my  ambition 
— I  recoiled  upon  a   passion  to  enter  my  father's 

119 


SIR    JOHJS^    CONSTANTINE 

business  and  increase  the  already  tidy  patrimonial 
pile. 

"  But  here  comes  in  the  cross  of  my  destiny.  My 
father,  sir,  had  secretly  cherished  dreams  of  raising 
me  above  his  own  station.  To  him  a  gentleman — and 
he  ridiculously  hoped  to  make  me  one — was  a  fellow 
above  working  for  his  living.  He  scoffed  at  my  en- 
thusiasm for  trade,  and  at  length  he  sent  for  me  and 
in  tones  that  brooked  no  denial  commanded  me  to 
learn  the  violin. 

"  N^ever  shall  I  forget  the  chill  of  heart  with  which 
I  received  that  fatal  mandate.  I  have  no  ear  for 
music,  sir.  In  tenderer  years  indeed  I  had  made 
essay  upon  the  Jew's  harp,  but  had  relinquished  it 
without  a  sigh. 

"  '  The  violin !  '  I  cried,  though  the  words  choked 
me.  '  Father,  anything  but  that !  If  it  were  the 
violoncello,  now ' 

"  But  he  cut  me  short  in  cold  incisive  accents. 
'  The  violin,  or  you  are  no  son  of  mine.' 

"  I  fled  from  the  house,  my  home  no  longer.  On 
the  way  to  the  front-door  I  had  sufficient  presence 
of  mind,  and  no  more,  to  make  a  detour  to  the  lar- 
der and  possess  myself  of  the  longest  joint;  which 
my  heated  judgment,  confusing  temporal  with  linen 
measurement,  commended  to  me  as  the  most  sustain- 
ing.     It  proved  to  be  a  shin  of  beef:  unnutritious 

120 


THE    COMPANY    OF    THE    ROSE 

except  for  soup  (and  I  carried  no  tureen),  useless 
as  an  object  of  barter.  With  this  and  two  half- 
crowns  in  my  pocket  I  slammed  the  front-door  behind 
me  and  faced  the  future." 

Mr.  Fett  paused  impressively. 

"  And  you  call  me  an  original,  sir,"  he  went  on  in 
accents  of  reproach ;  "  me,  who  started  in  life  with 
two  half-crowns  in  my  pocket,  the  conventional  outfit 
for  a  career  of  commercial  success !  " 

"  They  have  carried  you  all  the  way  to  Fal- 
mouth !  " 

"  The  one  of  them  carried  me  so  far  as  to 
Coventry,  sir:  where,  finding  a  fair  in  progress  as 
I  passed  through  the  town,  and  falling  in  with  three 
bridesmaids  who  had  missed  their  wedding  party  in 
the  crowd,  I  spent  the  other  in  treating  them  to  the 
hobby-horses  at  one  halfpenny  a  ride.  Four  half- 
pennies— there  were  four  of  us — make  twopence,  and 
two's  into  thirty  are  fifteen  rides ;  a  bold  investment 
of  capital,  and  undertaken  (T  will  confess  it)  not 
only  to  solace  the  fair  ones  but  to  ingratiate  myself 
with  the  fellow  who  turned  the  handle  of  the  ma- 
chine. To  him  I  applied  for  a  job.  He  had  none 
to  offer,  but  introduced  me  to  a  company  of  stroll- 
ing players  who  (as  fortune  would  have  it)  were  on 
the  point  of  presenting  '  Hamlet '  with  a  dramatis 
personam  decimated  by  Coventry  ale.     They  cast  me 

121 


SIR   JOHN    COXSTANTINE 

for  Poloniiis  and  some  other  odds  and  ends.  You 
may  remember,  sir,  that  at  one  point  the  Prince  of 
Denmark  is  instructed  to  '  enter  reading.'  That  stage 
direction  I  caught  at,  and  by  a  happy  '  improvisa- 
tion '  spread  it  over  the  entire  play.  Not  as  Polonius 
only,  but  as  Bernardo  upon  the  midnight  platform, 
as  Osric,  as  Fortinbras,  as  the  Second  Gravedigger, 
as  one  of  the  odd  players — always  I  entered  reading. 
In  my  great  scene  with  the  Prince  we  entered  read- 
ing together.  They  killed  me,  still  reading,  behind 
the  arras ;  and  at  a  late  hour  I  supped  with  the  com- 
pany on  Irish  stew ;  for,  incensed  by  these  novelties, 
the  audience  had  raided  a  greengrocer's  shop  between 
the  third  and  fourth  acts  and  thereafter  rained  their 
criticism  upon  me  in  the  form  of  cabbages  and  vari- 
ous esculent  roots  which  we  collected  each  time  the 
curtain  fell. 

"  Every  cloud,  sir,  has  a  silver  lining.  I  con- 
tinued long  enough  with  this  company  to  learn  that 
in  our  country  an  actor  need  never  die  of  scurvy. 
But  I  weary  you  with  my  adventures,  of  which  in- 
deed I  am  yet  in  the  first  chapter." 

"  You  shall  rehearse  them  on  another  occasion. 
But  will  you  at  least  tell  us  how  you  came  to  Pal- 
mouth  ?  " 

"  Why,  in  the  simplest  manner  in  tlie  world.  A 
fortnight  since  I  happened  to  be  sitting  in  the  stocks, 
in  the  absurd  but  accursed  town  of  Bovey  Traccy  in 

122 


THE    COMPANY    OF    THE    ROSE 

Devonshire.  My  companion — for  the  machine  dis- 
commodated  two — was  a  fiddler,  convicted  (like  my- 
self) of  vagrancy;  a  bottle-nosed  man,  who  took  the 
situation  wdth  such  phlegm  as  only  experience  can 
breed,  and  sliced  a  sausage  composedly  under  the 
commonalty's  gaze.  '  Good  Lord,'  said  I  to  myself, 
eyeing  him,  '  and  to  think  that  he  with  my  chances, 
or  I  with  his  taste  for  music,  might  be  driving  at 
this  moment  in  a  coach  and  pair !  ' 

"  '  Sir,'  said  I,  '  are  you  attached  to  that  instru- 
ment of  yours  V  'So  deeply,'  he  answered,  '  that, 
like  IsTero,  I  could  fiddle  if  Bovey  Tracey  were  burn- 
ing at  this  moment.'  '  You  can  perform  on  it 
creditably  ? '  I  asked.  '  In  a  fashion  to  bring  tears 
to  your  eyes,'  he  answered  me,  and  offered  to  prove 
his  words.  '  Xot  for  worlds,'  said  I ;  '  but  it  grieves 
me  to  think  how  Fortune  distributes  her  favours.' 
I  told  him  of  my  father.  '  I  should  like  to  make  the 
acquaintance  of  such  a  man,'  said  he.  '  You  shall,' 
said  I ;  and,  fetching  a  pencil  and  a  scrap  of  paper 
out  of  my  pocket,  I  wrote  as  follows : 

'' '  To  Mr.  Jonathan  Fett,  Manufacturer  of  Flams, 

W.  Bromicheham. 

The  Public  Stocks,  Bovey  Tracey,  "Devon. 
June  21st  (longest  day). 

Dear  Father, — Adopt  bearer,  in  lieu  of 

Your  affectionate  son, 

Phineas.' 
123 


SIR    JOHN    COXSTAXTKs^E 

"  The  fiddler  at  first  suspected  a  jest :  but  on  my 
repeated  assurances  took  the  letter  thankfully,  and 
at  parting,  on  our  release,  pressed  on  me  the  end  of 
his  sausage  wrapped  in  a  piece  of  newspaper.  I  ate 
the  sausage  moodily  and  was  about  to  throw  the  paper 
away  when  my  eye  caught  sight  of  an  advertisement 
in  the  torn  left-hand  corner.  I  read  it,  and  my  mind 
was  made  up.  I  am  here,  and  (thanks  to  you,  sir) 
with  a  rose  in  my  hat." 

By  the  time  Mr,  Fett  concluded  his  narrative  we 
had  reached  the  outskirts  of  the  town  and  found  our- 
selves in  a  traffic  which,  converging  upon  the  Market 
Strand  from  every  side-street  and  alley,  at  once  car- 
ried us  along  with  it  and  constrained  us  to  a  walk- 
ing pace.  My  father,  finding  the  throng  on  the 
Market  Strand  too  dense  for  our  horses,  turned  aside 
to  the  Three  Cups  Inn  across  the  street,  gave  them 
over  to  the  ostler,  and  led  us  upstairs  to  a  window 
which  overlooked  the  gathering. 

The  Market  Strand  at  Falmouth  is  an  open  oblong 
space,  not  very  wide,  leading  off  the  main  street  to 
the  water's  edge,  and  terminating  in  steps  where  as 
a  rule  the  watermen  wait  to  take  off  passengers  to 
the  packets.  A  lamp-post  stands  in  the  middle  of 
it,  and  by  the  base  of  this  the  preachers — a  grey- 
headed man  and  two  women  in  ugly  bonnets — were 
already  assembled,  with  but  a  foot  or  two  dividing 

124 


THE    CO.MPANY    OF    THE    KOSE 

them  from  the  crowd  Close  behind  the  lamp-post 
stood  a  knot  of  men  conversing  together — one  of 
whom  stepped  forward  for  a  word  with  the  grey- 
headed preacher.  Tie  wore  a  rose  in  his  hat,  and 
at  sight  of  him  my  heart  gave  a  wild  incredulous 
leap.     It  was  Nat  Fiennes ! 

I  pushed  past  my  father  and  flung  the  open  win- 
dow still  wider.  The  grey-haired  preacher  had 
opened  the  Bible  in  his  hand  and  was  climbing  the 
stone  base  of  the  lamp-post  when  a  handful  of  filth 
struck  the  back  of  the  book  and  bespattered  his  face. 
I  saw  !N'at  whip  out  his  sword  and  swing  about  an- 
grily in  the  direction  of  the  shot,  while  the  two 
women  laid  hands  on  either  arm  to  check  him ;  and 
at  the  same  moment  my  father  spoke  up  sharply  in 
my  ear. 

"  Tumble  out,  lad,"  he  commanded.  "  We  are  in 
bare  time." 

I  vaulted  over  the  window-ledge  and  dropped  into 
the  street;  my  father  after  me,  and  Mr.  Fett  and 
Billy  close  behind.  Indeed,  that  first  shot  had  but 
given  the  signal  for  a  general  engagement;  and,  as 
we  picked  ourselves  up  and  thrust  our  way  into  the 
crowed,  a  whole  volley  of  filth  bespattered  the  group 
of  Methodists.  In  particular  I  noted  the  man  with 
whom  Nat  Fiennes,  a  minute  since,  had  been  con- 
versing— a  little  bald-headed  fellow  of  about  fifty- 

125 


SIR   JOHN    CO^^STAXTINE 

five  or  sixty,  in  a  suit  of  black  which,  even  at  thirty 
paces  distant,  showed  rusty  in  the  sunshine.     An  egg 
had  broken  against  his  forehead^  and  the  yellow  of 
it  trickled  down  over  his  eyes;  yet  he  stood,  hat  in 
hand,   neither  yielding  pace  nor  offering  to  resist. 
Nat,  less  patient,  had  made  a  rush  upon  the  crowd, 
which  had  closed  around  and  swallowed  him  from 
sight.     By  its  violent  swaying  he  was  giving  it  some- 
thing to  digest.     One  of  the  two  women  shrank  ter- 
rified by  the  base  of  the  lamp-post.     The  other — a 
virago  to  look  at,  with  eyes  that  glared  from  under 
the  pent  of  her  black  bonnet — had  pulled  the  grey- 
headed preacher  down  by  his  coat-tails,  and,  mount- 
ing in  his  room,  clung  with  an  arm  around  the  lamp- 
post and  defied  the  persecutors. 

"  Why  am  I  here,  friends  ?  "  she  challenged  them. 
"  O  generation  of  vipers,  why  am  I  here  ?  Answer 
me,  you  men  of  Belial — you,  whose  fathers  slew  the 
prophets !  Because  I  glory  to  suffer  for  the  right ; 
because  to  turn  the  other  cheek  is  a  Christian's  duty, 
and  as  a  Christian  woman  I'll  turn  it  though  you 
were  twice  the  number,  and  not  be  afraid  what  man 
can  do  unto  me." 

Now  my  father  was  well  known  in  Falmouth  and 
pretty  generally  held  in  awe.  At  sight  of  him  ad- 
vancing, the  throng  fell  back  and  gave  us  passage 
in  a  sudden  lull  which  reached  even  to  where  Nat 

12G 


THE    COMPANY    OF    THE    ROSE 

Fiennes  struggled  in  the  grasp  of  a  dozen  longshore- 
men who  were  haling  him  to  the  quay's  edge,  to  fling 
him  over.  He  broke  loose,  and  before  they  could 
seize  him  again  came  staggering  back,  panting  and 
dishevelled. 

"  Prosper !  "  he  cried,  catching  sight  of  me,  and 
grinning  delightedly  all  over  his  muddied  face.  "  I 
knew  you  would  come!  And  your  father,  too? — 
splendid,  lad,  splendid  !  " 

"  Ye  men  of  Falmouth " — the  woman  by  the 
lamp-post  lifted  her  voice  more  shrilly — "  what  shall 
I  testify  of  the  hardness  of  your  hearts?  Shall  I 
testify  that  your  Mayor,  sending  his  crier  round,  has 
threatened  to  whip  us  through  Falmouth  streets  at 
the  cart-tail?     Shall  I  testify " 

But  here  my  father  lifted  a  hand.  "  Gently, 
madam;  gently.  I  am  not  defending  his  Worship 
if  he  issued  any  such  proclamation ;  but  'tis  an  an- 
cient punishment  for  scolds,  and  I  advise  you  to 
lend  him  no  colour  of  excuse." 

"  And  who  may  you  be,  sir  ?  "  she  demanded,  look- 
ing down,  angry,  but  checked  in  spite  of  herself  by 
my  father's  air  of  authority. 

"  One,"  he  answered,  "  who  has  come  to  see  fair 
play,  and  who  has — as  you  may  see — for  the  moment 
some  little  influence  with  this  rabble  1  will  con- 
tinue to  exert  it  while  I  can,  if  you  on  your  part 

127 


SIK    JOHX    COXSTANTINE 

will  forbear  to  provoke ;  for  the  tongue,  madam,  has 
its  missiles  as  well  as  the  hands." 

"  I  thank  joii,  sir,"  said  the  grey-headed  preacher, 
stepping  forward  and  thrusting  a  book  into  my  fa- 
ther's hands.  "  We  had  best  begin  with  a  hymn, 
I  think.  I  have  some  experience  of  the  softening 
power  of  music  on  these  occasions." 

"  We  wall  sing,"  announced  the  woman,  "  that 
beautiful  hymn  beginning,  '  Into  a  world  of  ruffians 
sent.'  Common  metre,  my  friends,  and  Sister  Tre- 
size  will  give  the  pitch: 

''Into  a  world  of  ruffians  sent, 
I  walk  on  hostile  ground " 


My  father  bared  his  head  and  opened  the  hymn- 
book  ;  the  rest  of  us,  bareheaded  too,  ranged  ourselves 
beside  him ;  and  so  we  stood  facing  the  mob  while 
the  verses  were  sung  in  comparative  quiet.  The 
words  might  be  provocative,  but  few  heard  them. 
The  tune  commanded  an  audience,  as  in  Cornwall  a 
tune  usually  will.  The  true  secret  of  the  spell,  how- 
ever, lay  in  my  father's  presence  and  bearing.  A 
British  crowd  does  not  easily  attack  one  whom  it 
knows  as  a  neighbour  and  born  superior ;  and  it  paid 
homage  now  to  one  who,  having  earned  it  all  his  life, 
carelessly  took  it  for  granted. 

"  Begad,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Fett  in  my  ear,  "  and  the 

128 


THE    CO.ALPANY    OF    THE    ROSE 

books  say  that  the  feudal  system  is  dead  in  England  ! 
Why,  here's  the  very  flower  of  it !  Damme,  though, 
the  old  gentleman  is  splendid;  superlative,  sir;  it's 
ten  to  one  against  Coriolanus,  and  no  takers.  Be- 
tween ourselves,  Coriolanus  was  a  pretty  fellow,  but 
talked  too  much.  Phocion,  sir?  Did  I  hear  you 
mention  Phocion  ? " 

"  You  did  not,"  I  answered. 

"  And  quite  right,"  said  he ;  "  with  your  father 
running,  I  wouldn't  back  Phocion  for  a  place.  All 
the  same,"  Mr.  Fett  admitted,  "  this  is  what  Mr. 
Gray,  of  Peterhouse,  Cambridge,  would  call  a  fear- 
ful joy,  and  I'd  be  thankful  for  a  distant  prospect 
of  the  way  out  of  it." 

"  Indeed,  sir " — my  father,  overhearing  this, 
turned  to  him  affably — "  you  touch  the  weak  spot. 
For  the  moment  I  see  no  way  out  of  the  situation, 
nor  any  chance  but  to  prolong  it;  and  even  this," 
he  added,  "  will  not  be  easy  unless  the  lady  on  the 
lamp-post  sensibly  alters  the  tone  of  her  discourse.'* 

Indeed,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  singing  she  had 
started  again  to  address  the  crowd,  albeit — acting  on 
my  father's  hint — in  more  moderate  tones,  and  even, 
as  I  thought,  somewhat  tepidly.  Her  theme  was 
what  she  called  convictions  of  sin,  of  which  by  her 
own  account  she  had  wrestled  with  a  surprising  quan- 
tity; but  in  the  rehearsal  of  thoni,  though  fluent,  she 

129 


(I 
ii 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

seemed  to  lose  heart  as  her  hearers  relaxed  their 
attention. 

Confound   the  woman !  "   grumbled  my  father. 

She  had  done  better,  after  all,  to  continue  frantic. 
The  crowd  came  to  be  amused,  and  is  growing  restive 
again." 

"  Sir,"  interposed  Mr.  Fett,  "  give  me  leave  to  as- 
sure you  that  an  audience  may  be  amused  and  yet 
throw  things.  Were  this  the  time  and  place  for 
reminiscences,  I  could  tell  you  a  tale  of  Stony  Strat- 
ford (appropriately  so-called,  sir),  where,  as  Juba  in 
Mr.  Addison's  tragedy  of  '  Cato,'  for  two  hours  I 
piled  the  Pelion  of  passion  upon  the  Ossa  of  elocu- 
tionary correctness,  still  without  surmounting  the 
zone  of  plant  life  ;  which  in  the  Arts,  sir,  must  extend 
higher  than  geographers  concede.  And  yet  I  evoked 
laughter ;  from  which  I  may  conclude  that  my  ef- 
forts amused.  The  great  Demosthenes,  sir,  practised 
declamation  with  his  mouth  full  of  pebbles — for  re- 
taliatory purposes,  I  have  sometimes  thought." 

Here  my  father,  who  had  been  paying  no  atten- 
tion to  Mr.  Fett's  discourse^  interrupted  it  with  a 
sharp  but  joyful  exclamation ;  and,  glancing  towards 
him,  I  saw  his  face  clear  of  anxiety. 

"  We  are  safe,"  he  announced  quietly,  nodding  in 
the  direction  of  the  Three  Cups.  "  What  we  wanted 
was  a  fool,  and  we  have  found  him." 

130 


CHAPTER    VIII 

TRIBULATIONS    OF    A    MAYOR 

Like  the  Mayor  of  Falmouth,  who  thanked  God  when  the 
Town  Jail  was  enlarged. — Old  Byword. 

His  nod  was  levelled  at  a  horseman  who  had 
ridden  down  the  street  and  was  pressing  upon  the 
outskirts  of  the  crowd :  and  this  was  no  less  a  dig- 
nitary than  the  Mayor  of  Falmouth,  preceded  on 
foot  by  a  beadle  and  two  mace-bearers,  all  three  of 
them  shouting  "  Way !  Make  way  for  the  Mayor !  " 
with  such  effect  that  in  less  than  half  a  minute  the 
crowd  had  divided  itself  to  form  a  lane  for  them. 

"  Eh  ?  eh  ?  What  is  this  ?  What  is  the  meaning 
of  all  this  ?  "  demanded  his  Worship  magisterially, 
as,  having  drawn  rein,  he  fumbled  in  his  tail  pocket, 
drew  forth  a  pair  of  horn  spectacles,  adjusted  them 
on  his  nose,  and  glared  round  upon  the  throng. 

"  That,  sir,"  answered  my  father  stepping  for- 
ward, "  is  what  we  are  waiting  to  learn." 

"  Sir  John  Constantine  ?  "  The  Mayor  bowed 
from  his  saddle.  "  You  will  pardon  me,  Sir  John, 
that  for  the  moment  T  missed  to  recognise  you.     The 

131 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

fact  is,  I  suffer,  Sir  John,  from  some — er — short- 
ness of  sight :  a  grave  inconvenience,  at  times,  to  one 
in  my  position." 

"  Indeed  ?  "  said  my  father  gravely.  "  And  yet, 
as  I  have  heard,  'tis  a  malady  most  incident  to 
borough  magistrates." 

"  You  don't  say  so?  "  The  Mayor  considered  this 
for  a  moment.  "  The  visitations  of  Providence  are 
indeed  inscrutable,  Sir  John.  It  would  give  me 
pleasure  to  discuss  them  with  you,  on  some — er — 
more  suitable  occasion,  if  I  might  have  the  honour. 
But  as  I  was  about  to  say,  I  am  delighted  to  see 
you,  Sir  John:  your  presence  here  will  strengthen 
my  hands  in  dealing  with  this — er — unlawful  as- 
sembly." 

"  7s  this  an  unlawful  assembly  ?  "  my  father  asked. 

"  It  is  worse.  Sir  John ;  it  is  far  worse.  I  have 
been  studying  the  law,  and  the  law  admits  of  no 
dubiety.  It  is  unlawful  assembly  where  three  or 
more  persons  meet  together  to  carry  out  some  private 
enterprise  in  circumstances  calculated  to  excite  alarm. 
Mark  those  words,  Sir  John — '  some  private  enter- 
prise.' When  the  enterprise  is  not  private  but  meant 
to  redress  a  public  grievance,  or  to  reform  religion, 
the  offence  becomes  high  treason." 

"  Does  the  law  indeed  say  so  ?  " 
It  does.  Sir  John.     The  law,  let  me  tell  you,  is 

132 


i( 


TRIBULATIONS    OF    A    MAYOR 

very  fierce  against  any  reforming  of  religion.  Nay 
more,  Sir  John,  under  tlio  first  of  King  George  the 
First,  statute  two — I  forget  what  chapter — by  the 
Act  commonly  called  the  Riot  Act,  it  is  enacted  that 
if  a  dozen  or  more  go  about  reforming  of  religion  or 
otherwise  upsetting  the  public  peace  and  refuse  to 
go  about  their  business  within  the  space  of  one  hour 
after  I  tell  'em  to,  the  same  becomes  felony  without 
benefit  of  clergy." 

"  Good  Lord !  "  exclaimed  Billy  Priske,  pulling 
off  his  hat  and  eyeing  the  rose  in  its  band. 

"  And  further,"  his  Worship  continued,  "  any  man 
wearing  the  badge  or  ensign  of  the  rioters  shall  him- 
self be  considered  a  rioter  without  benefit  of  clergv'." 

All  this  while  the  crowd  had  been  pressing  closer 
and  closer  upon  us,  under  compulsion  (as  it  seemed) 
of  reinforcements  from  the  waterside,  the  purlieus  of 
the  Market  Strand  being,  by  now,  so  crowded  that 
men  and  women  were  crying  out  for  room.  At  this 
moment,  glancing  across  the  square,  I  was  puzzled 
to  see  a  woman  leaning  forth  from  a  first-floor  win- 
dow and  dropping  handfuls  of  artificial  flowers  upon 
the  heads  of  the  throng.  While  I  watched,  she  re- 
tired— her  hands  being  empty — came  back  with  a 
band-box,  and  scattered  its  contents  broadcast,  paus- 
ing to  blow  a  kiss  towards  the  Mayor. 

I  plucked  my  father's  sleeve  to  call  his  attention 

133 


SIR  JOHN"  coxsta:n'Tixe 

to  this ;  but  he  and  the  Major  were  engaged  in  ar- 
gument, his  Worship  maintaining  that  the  Metho- 
dists— and  my  father  that  their  assailants — ^were  the 
prime  disturbers  of  the  peace. 

"  And  how,  pray,"  asked  my  father,  "  are  these 
poor  women  to  disperse,  if  your  ruffians  won't  let 
'em  ?  " 

"  As  to  that,  sir,  you  shall  see,"  promised  the 
]Mayor,  and  turned  to  the  town  crier.  "  John  Sprott, 
call  silence.  Make  as  much  noise  about  it  as  you 
can,  John  Sprott.  And  you,  iSTandy  Daddo,  catch 
hold  of  mv  horse's  bridle,  here." 

He  rose  in  his  stirrups  and,  searching  again  in  his 
tail-pocket,  drew  forth  a  roll  of  paper. 

"  Silence !  "  bawled  the  crier. 

"  Louder,  if  you  please,  John  Sprott :  louder,  if 
you  can  manage  it!  And  say  '  in  the  name  of  King 
George,'  John  Sprott ;  and  wind  up  with  '  God  save 
the  King.'  For  without  '  God  save  the  King '  'tis 
no  riot,  and  a  man  cannot  be  hanged  for  it.  So  be 
very  particular  to  say  '  God  save  the  King,'  John 
Sprott,  and  put  'em  all  in  the  wrong." 

John  Sprott  bawled  again,  and  this  time  achieved 
the  whole  formula. 

"  That's  better,  John  Sprott.  And  you — "  his 
AVorship  turned  upon  the  Methodists,  "  you  just 
listen  to  this,  now: 

134 


TRIBULATIONS    OF    A    MAYOR 
"  Our  sovereign  Lord  the  King " 


Here,  as  the  Methodists  stood  before  him  with 
folded  hands,  a  lump  of  filth  flew  past  the  Mayor's 
ear  and  bespattered  the  lamp-post. 

"  Damme,  who  did  that  ?  "  his  Worship  demanded. 
"  John  Sprott,  who  threw  that  muck  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  the  man's  name,  your  Worship:  but 
he's  yonder,  there,  in  a  striped  shirt  open  at  the  neck, 
Avith  a  little  round  hat  on  the  back  of  his  head ;  and, 
what's  more,  I  see'd  him  do  it." 

"  Then  take  down  his  description,  John  Sprott, 
and  write  that  at  the  words  '  Our  sovereign  Lord  '  he 
shied  a  lump  of  muck." 

John  Sprott  pulled  out  a  note-book  and  entered  the 
offence. 

"  And  after  '  muck,'  John  Sprott,  write  '  God  save 
the  King.'  I  don't  know  that  'tis  necessary,  but 
you'll  be  on  the  safe  side."  His  Worship  unfolded 
the  proclamation  again,  cleared  his  throat,  and  re- 
sumed : 

"  Our  sovereign  Lord  the  King  chargeth  and  rom- 
mandeth  all  persons,  being  assembled,  immediately 
to  disperse  themselves  and  peaceably  to  depart  to 
their  habitations  or  to  their  lawful  business,  upon  the 
pains  contained  in  the  Act  made  in  the  first  year  of 
George  the  First  for  preventing " 

A  handful  of  more  or  less  liquid  mud  here  took 

135 


SIR    JOHN    COXSTANTINE 

him  on  the  nape  of  the  neck  and  splashed  over  the 
paper  which  he  held  in  both  hands. 

"  Arrest  that  man !  "  he  shouted,  bouncing  about 
in  a  furj.  At  the  same  moment  my  father  gripped 
my  elbow  as  a  volley  of  missiles  darkened  the  air,  and 
we  fell  back — all  the  company  of  the  Rose — shoul- 
der to  shoulder,  to  protect  the  Methodists,  as  a  small 
but  solid  phalanx  of  men  came  driving  through  the 
crowd  with  mischief  in  their  faces. 

"  But  wait  awhile!  wait  awhile !  "  called  out  Billy 
Priske,  as  my  father  plucked  out  his  sword.  "  These 
be  no  enemies,  master^  to  us  or  the  Methodies,  but 
honest  sea-f  ardingers — packet-men  all-  -and,  look 
you,  with  roses  in  their  hats !  " 

"  Roses  ?  Faith,  and  so  they  have !  "  cried  my 
father,  lowering  his  guard.  "  But  what  the  devil, 
then,  is  the  meaning  of  it  ?  " 

He  was  answered  on  the  moment.  The  official 
whom  his  Worship  called  Nandy  Daddo  had  made  a 
rush  into  the  crowd,  charging  it  with  his  mace  as 
with  a  battering-ram,  and  was  in  the  act  of  clutching 
the  man  who  had  thrown  the  filth,  when  the  phalanx 
of  packet-men  broke  through  and  bore  him  down.  A 
moment  later  I  saw  his  gold-laced  hat  fly  skimming 
over  the  heads  of  the  throng,  and  his  mace  wrenched 
from  him  and  held  aloft  in  the  hands  of  a  red-faced 
man,  who  flourished  it  twice  and  rushed  upon  the 

136 


TKIBULATIOXS    OF    A    MAYOR 

Mayor,  shouting  at  the  same  time  with  all  his  lungs: 
"  TowTishends  !  This  way,  Townshends !  "  whereat 
the  packet-men  cheered  and  pressed  after  him,  driv- 
ing the  crowd  of  Falmouth  to  right  and  left. 

Clearly  what  mischief  they  meant  was  intended 
for  the  Mayor:  and  the  Mayor,  for  a  short-sighted 
man,  detected  this  very  promptly.  Also  he  showed 
surprising  agility  in  tumbling  out  of  his  saddle; 
which  he  had  scarcely  done  before  the  crupper  re- 
sounded with  a  whack,  of  which  one  of  the  borough 
maces  bears  an  eloquent  dent  to  this  day. 

The  Mayor,  catching  his  toe  in  the  stirrup  as  he 
slipped  off,  staggered  and  fell  at  our  feet.  But  the 
body  of  his  horse,  interposed  between  him  and  the 
rioters,  protected  him  for  an  instant,  and  in  that 
instant  my  father  and  Xat  Fiennes  dragged  him  up 
and  thrust  him  to  the  rear  while  we  faced  the  as- 
sault. For  now,  and  without  a  word  said,  the 
Methodists  were  forgotten,  and  we  of  the  Rose  were 
istanding  for  law  and  order  against  this  other  com- 
pany of  the  Rose,  of  whose  quarrel  we  knew  nothing 
at  all. 

Our  attitude  indeed,  and  the  sight  of  drawn 
swords  (to  oppose  which  they  had  no  weapons  but 
short  cudgels),  appeared  to  take  them  aback  for  the 
moment.  The  press,  however,  closing  on  us,  as  we 
backed  to  cover  the  Mavor's  retreat,  offered  less  and 

10  — 
Oi 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

less  occasion  for  sword-play;  and,  the  seamen  still 
advancing  and  outnumbering  us  by  about  three  to 
one,  the  whole  affair  began  to  wear  an  ugly  look. 

At  this  juncture  relief  came  to  us  in  the  strangest 
fashion.  I  had  clean  forgotten  the  little  Methodist 
man  in  black ;  whom,  to  be  sure,  I  had  no  occasion 
to  remember  but  for  the  quiet  resolution  of  his  car- 
riage as  he  had  stood  with  the  burst  egg  trickling 
over  his  face.  But  now,  to  the  surprise  of  us  all, 
he  sprang  forward  upon  the  second  mace-bearer, 
snatched  the  mace  from  his  hand  and  laid  about  him 
in  a  sudden  frenzy;  at  the  first  blow,  delivered 
unawares,  catching  the  ringleader  on  the  crown  and 
felling  him  like  an  ox.  For  a  second,  perhaps,  he 
stared,  amazed  at  his  own  prowess,  and  with  that 
the  lust  of  battle  seized  him. 

He  rained  blows ;  yet  with  cunning,  running  forth 
and  back  into  our  ranks  as  each  was  delivered ;  and 
between  the  blows  he  capered,  uttering  shrill,  inartic- 
ulate cries.  This  diversion  indeed  saved  us.  For 
the  rabble,  pressing  up  to  see  the  fun,  left  a  space 
more  or  less  clear  on  the  far  side  of  the  Market 
Strand,  and  for  this  space  we  stampeded,  dragging 
the  Mayor  along  with  us. 

The  next  thing  I  remember  was  fighting  side  by 
side  with  Nat  before  a  door  beneath  the  window 
where  I   had   seen   the  woman  throwing  down   her 

138 


TRIBULATIONS    OF    A    MAYOR 

handfuls  of  artifieial  flowers.  The  lower  windows 
were  barred,  but  the  door  stood  open ;  and  we  fought 
to  defend  it  whilst  my  father  lifted  the  Mayor  of 
Falmouth  by  his  coat-collar  and  the  seat  of  his 
breeches  and  flunc;  him  inside.  Then  we  too  backed 
and,  ducking  indoors  under  the  arms  of  the  little 
man  in  black — who  stood  on  the  step  swinging  the 
borough  mace  as  though  to  scythe  off  the  head  of 
any  one  who  approached  within  five  feet  of  it — seized 
him  by  the  coat-tails,  dragged  him  inside  and,  slam- 
ming-to  the  door  (which  shut  with  two  flaps),  locked 
and  bolted  it  and  leant  against  it  with  all  our  weight. 

Yet  a  common  house-door  is  but  a  flimsy  barricade 
against  a  mob,  especially  if  that  mob  be  led  by  five- 
and-twenty  stout-bodied  seamen.  We  had  shut  it 
merely  to  gain  time,  and  when  the  cudgels  outside 
began  to  play  tattoo  upon  its  upper  panels  I  looked 
for  no  more  than  a  minute's  respite  at  the  best. 

It  puzzled  me  therefore  when — and  immediately 
upon  two  ugly  blows  that  had  well-nigh  shaken  the 
lock  from  its  fastenings — the  shouting  suddenly  sub- 
sided into  a  confused  hubbub  of  voices,  followed  by 
a  clang  and  rattle  of  arms  upon  the  cobblestones. 
This  last  sound  appeared  to  hush  the  others  into 
silence.  I  stood  listening,  with  my  hip  pressed 
against  the  lock  to  hold  it  firm  against  the  next  con- 
cussion.    None  came :  but  presently  some  one  rapped 

139 


SIR    JOHN    COXSTANTINE 

with  his  knuckles  on  the  upper  panel  and  a  voice, 
authoritative  but  civil  enough,  challenged  us  in  the 
name  of  King  George  to  open. 

To  this  I  had  almost  answered  bidding  him  go  to 
the  devil,  when  a  damsel  put  her  head  over  the  stair- 
rail  of  the  landing  above  and  called  down  to  us  to 
obey  and  open  at  once:  and,  looking  up  in  the  dim 
light  of  the  passage,  I  recognised  her  for  the  one  who 
had  scattered  the  flowers,  just  now,  to  the  rioters. 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  I,  "  but  how  shall  I  know  you 
are  not  playing  us  a  trick  ?  " 

"  My  good  child,"  she  replied,  "  open  the  door  and 
don't  stand  arguing.  The  riot  is  over  and  the  square 
full  of  military.  The  person  who  knocks  is  Captain 
Bright  of  the  Pendennis  Garrison.  If  you  don't  be- 
lieve me,  step  upstairs  here  and  look  out  of  window." 

"  My  father — "  I  began. 

"  Your  father  is  right  enough,  and  so  is  that  fool 
of  a  Mayor — or  will  be  when  he  has  drunk  down  a 
glass  of  cordial." 

Nevertheless  I  would  not  obey  her  until  I  had  sent 
Nat  Fiennes  upstairs  to  look;  who  within  a  minute 
called  over  the  stair-head  that  the  woman  told  the 
truth  and  I  had  my  father's  leave  to  open.  There- 
upon I  pulled  open  the  upper  flap  of  the  door,  and 
stood  blinking  at  a  tall  officer  in  gorgeous  regi- 
mentals. 

140 


TRIBULATIONS    OF    A    :\rAYOIl 

"  Hullo !  "  said  he.    "  Good  morning !  " 

"  Good  morning !  "  said  T.  "  And  forgive  me  that 
I  kept  you  waiting." 

"  Don't  mention  it,"  said  he  very  affably.  "  My 
fault  entirely,  for  coming  late ;  or  rather  the  Mayor's, 
who  sent  word  that  we  weren't  needed.  I  took  the 
liberty  to  doubt  this  as  soon  as  my  sentries  reported 
that  a  couple  of  boats'  crews  were  putting  ashore 
from  the  Townshend  packet :  and  here  we  are  in  con- 
sequence.    Got  him  safe  ?  " 

"  The  Mayor  ?  "  said  I.  "  Yes,  I  believe  he  is  up- 
stairs at  this  moment,  drinking  brandy-and-water 
and  pulling  himself  together." 

The  Captain  grinned  amiably.  "  Sorry  to  disturb 
him,"  said  he :  "  but  the  mob  is  threatening  to  burn 
his  house,  and  I'd  best  take  him  along  to  read  the 
Riot  Act  and  put  things  ship-shape." 

"  He  has  read  it  already,  or  some  part  of  it.'' 

"  Some  part  of  it  won't  do.  He  must  read  the 
whole  proclamation,  not  forgetting  '  God  save  the 
King.'  " 

"  If  you  can  find  the  paper,"  said  I,  "  there's  a 
lump  of  mud  on  it,  marking  the  place  where  he  left 
off." 

The  Captain  grinned  again.  "  I  doubt  he'll  have 
to  begin  afresh  after  breaking  off  to  drink  brandy- 
and-water  with  Moll  Whiteaway.     For  a  chief  mag- 

141 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTAXTIXE 

istrate  that  will  need  some  explaining.  And  yet," 
mused  the  Captain  as  he  stepped  into  the  passage, 
"  YOU  may  have  done  him  a  better  turn  than  ever  you 
guessed;  for,  when  the  mob  sees  the  humour  of  it, 
belike  it'll  be  more  for  laughing  than  setting  fire  to 
his  house." 

"  But  who  is  Moll  Whiteaway  ?  "  I  asked. 
He  stared  at  me.     "  You  mean  to  say  you  didn't 
know  ?  "  he  asked  slowlv.     "  You  didn't  bring  him 
here  for  a  joke  ?  " 

"  A  joke  ?  "  I  echoed.  "  A  mighty  queer  joke,  sir, 
you'd  have  thought  it,  if  your  men  had  been  five  min- 
utes earlier." 

He  leaned  back  against  the  wall  of  the  passage. 
"  And  you  brought  him  here  by  accident  ?  Well,  if 
this  don't  beat  cock-fighting!  " 

"  But  who  is  this  Moll  Whiteaway  ?  "  I  repeated. 
The  question  again  seemed  to  take  his  breath 
away.  For  answer  he  could  only  point  to  a  small 
brass  plate  in  the  lower  flap  of  the  door ;  and,  stoop- 
ing, I  r.ead:  Miss  Whiteaway,  Milliner,  Modes  and 
Robes. 

"  Oh !  "  said  I.     "  That  accounts  for  the  band-box 
of  flowers." 

"  Does  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  She  flung  them  out  of  window  to  the  packet- 


men." 


142 


TRTBULATIOXS    OF    A    :\rAYOr. 

"  Which,  doubtless,  seemed  to  you  an  everyday 
proceeding — just  a  milliner's  usual  way  of  getting 
rid  of  her  summer  stock.  My  good  young  sir,  did 
you  ever  hear  tell  of  a  '  troacher  '  ?  Xay,  spare  that 
ingenuous  blush :  Moll  is  a  loose  fish,  but  I  mean 
less  than  your  modesty  suspects.  A  '  troacher  '  is  a 
kind  of  female  smuggler  that  disposes  of  the  goods 
the  packet-men  bring  home  in  their  bunks ;  and  Moll 
Whiteaway  is  the  head  of  the  profession  in  Fal- 
mouth. Now  our  worthy  Mayor  took  oath  the  other 
day  to  put  down  this  smuggling  on  board  the  packets ; 
and  he  began  yesterday  with  the  Toiunshend.  He 
and  the  Port  Searcher  swept  the  ship,  sir.  They  dug 
Portuguese  brandy  in  kegs  out  of  the  seamen's  beds 
and  parcels  of  silk  out  of  the  very  beams.  They 
shook  two  case-bottles  out  of  the  chaplain's  breeches, 
which  must  have  galled  him  sorely  in  his  devotions. 
They  netted  close  on  two  hundred  pounds  worth  of 
contraband  in  the  fo'c's'le  alone " 

"  Good  Heavens !  "  I  interjected.  "  And  as  the 
riot  began  he  was  calling  himself  short-sighted !  " 

Captain  Bright  laughed,  clapped  me  on  the  shoul- 
der, and  led  the  way  upstairs,  where  (strange  to  say) 
we  found  the  Mayor  again  deploring  his  defective 
vision.  He  lay  in  an  easy  chair  amid  an  army  of 
band-boxes,  bonnet-stands,  and  dummies  representing 
the   female   iigure;    and   sipped   Miss   Whiteaway's 

143 


SIR    JOim    CONSTAXTIXE 

brandy  while  he  discoursed  in  broken  sentences  to  an 
audience  consisting  of  that  lady,  my  father,  Nat 
Fiennes,  Mr.  Fett,  and  the  little  man  in  black  (who, 
by  the  way,  did  not  appear  to  be  listening,  but 
stood  and  pondered  the  borough  mace,  which  he  held 
in  his  hands,  turning  it  over  and  examining  the 
dents). 

"  It  is  a  great  draw^back,  Sir  John — a  great  draw- 
back," his  Worship  lamented.  "  A  man  in  my  posi- 
tion, sir,  should  have  the  eye  of  an  eagle;  instead 
of  which  on  all  public  occasions  I  have  to  rely  on 
John  Sprott.  My  good  woman  " — he  turned  to  Miss 
Whiteaway — "  would  you  mind  taking  a  glance  out 
of  window  and  telling  me  what  has  become  of  John 
Sprott?" 

"  He's  down  below  under  protection  of  the  sol- 
diers," announced  Miss  Whiteaway ;  "  and  no  harm 
done  but  his  hat  lost  and  his  gown  split  up  the 
back." 

"  I  shall  never  have  the  same  confidence  in  John 
Sprott.  He  takes  altogether  too  sanguine  a  view  of  hu- 
man nature.  Why,  only  last  November — you  remem- 
ber the  great  gale  of  November  the  first,  Sir  John? 
I  was  very  active  in  burying  the  poor  bodies  brought 
ashore  next  day  and  for  several  days  after;  for,  as 
you  remember,  a  couple  of  Indymen  dragged  their 
anchors  and  broke  up  under  Pendennis  Battery :  and 

144 


TlilBULxVTIONS    OF    A    MAYOK 

John  Sprott  said  to  me  in  the  most  assured  way, 
*  The  town'U  never  forget  your  kindness,  sir.  You 
mark  my  words,'  he  said,  '  this  here  action  will  stand 
you  upon  the  pinnacles  of  honour  till  you  and  me 
meets,  if  I  may  respectfully  say  it,  and  sits  us  down 
in  the  land  of  marrow  and  fatness.'  After  that  you'd 
have  thought  a  man  might  count  on  some  popularity. 
But  what  happened  ?  A  day  or  two  later — that  is 
to  say,  on  November  the  fifth — I  was  sitting  in  my 
shop  with  a  magnifying-glass  in  my  eye,  cleaning  out 
a  customer's  watch,  when  in  walked  half  a  dozen  boys 
carrying  a  man's  body  between  'em.  You  could  tell 
that  life  was  extinct  by  the  way  his  head  hung  back 
and  his  legs  trailed  limp  on  the  floor  as  they  brought 
him  in,  and  his  face  looked  to  me  terribly  swollen 
and  discoloured.  '  Dear,  dear !  '  said  I.  '  What  ? 
Another  poor  soul  ?  Take  hira  up  to  the  mortewary, 
that's  good  boys,'  I  said ;  '  and  you  shall  have  two- 
pence apiece  out  of  the  poor-box.'  How  d'ye  think 
they  answered  me  ?  They  bust  out  a-laughing,  and 
cries  one :  '  If  you  please,  sir,  'tis  meant  for  you ! 
'Tis  the  fifth  of  November,  and  we'm  goin'  to  burn 
you  in  effigy.'  I  chased  'em  out  of  the  shop,  and 
later  on  in  the  day  I  spoke  to  John  Sprott  about  it. 
'  Well,  now,'  said  John  Sprott,  '  I  passed  a  lot  of 
boys  just  now,  burning  a  guy  at  the  top  of  the  Moor, 
and  I  had  my  suspicions;  but  the  thing  hadn't  a 

145 


SIR    JOIIX    COXSTAXTIXE 

feature  of  yours  to  take  hold  on,  barrin'  the  size  of 
its  feet.'  And  that's  what  you  call  popularity !  " 
wound  up  the  Mayor  with  bitterness.  "  That's  what 
a  man  gets  for  rising  early  and  lying  down  late  to 
serve  his  country !  " 

''  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Mayor,"  put  in  Captain  Bright, 
"  but  they  are  threatening  to  burn  worse  than  your 
effigy:  in  fact  I  heard  some  talk  of  setting  fire  to 
your  house  and  shop.  Xay,"  he  went  on  as  the  Mayor 
bounced  up  to  his  feet,  "  there's  no  real  cause  for 
alarm.  I  have  sent  on  my  lieutenant  with  fifty  men 
to  keep  the  mob  on  the  move,  and  have  stationed  a 
dozen  outside  here  to  escort  you  home." 

"  The  Riot  Act — where's  my  Riot  Act  ?  "  cried 
his  Worship,  searching  his  pockets  desperately.  "  I 
never  read  out  '  God  save  the  King,'  and  without 
'  God  save  the  King '  a  man  may  burn  all  my  valy- 
bles  and  make  turbulent  gestures  and  show  of  arms, 
and  harry  and  murder  to  the  detriment  of  the  public 
peace^  and  refuse  to  move  on  when  requested,  and 
all  the  time  in  the  eyes  of  the  law  be  a  babe  unborn. 
Where's  the  Riot  Act,  I  say?  for  without  it  I'm 
a  lost  man  and  good-bye  to  Falmouth !  " 

"  Then  'tis  lucky  that  I  came  provided  with  a 
copy,"  Captain  Bright  produced  a  paper  from  the 
breast  of  his  tunic. 

The  Mayor  took  it  with  trembling  hands  and  read. 

146 


TPtlBTn.ATTOXS    OF    A    MAYOR 

"Why,  'tis  a  duplicity!"  he  cried.  "A  very  du- 
plicity !  and,  what's  more,  printed  in  the  same  lan- 
guage word  for  word !  "  He  caught  the  mace  from 
the  little  man  in  black.  "  Lead  the  way,  Captain : 
lead  the  way :  and  blessings  on  the  man  that  first  in- 
vented duplicities !  " 


147 


CHAPTER    IX 


I    ENLIST    AN    ARMY 


If  I  be  not  ashamed  of  my  soldiers,  I  am  a  soused  gurnet. 

— Sir  John  Falstaff. 

My  father  turned  to  me  as  they  descended  the 
stair.  "  This  is  all  very  well,  lad/'  said  he,  "  but 
we  have  yet  to  find  our  army.  After  the  murder  of 
Julius  Csesar,  now " 

"  I  did  enact  Julius  Csesar  once,"  quoted  Mr.  Fett 
in  parenthesis.  "  I  was  killed  i'  the  capitol ;  Brutus 
killed  me." 

My  father  frowned.  "  After  the  murder  of  Julius 
Caesar,  when  the  mob  for  two  days  had  Rome  at  their 
mercy,  I  have  read  somewhere  that  two  men  ap- 
peared out  of  nowhere,  and  put  themselves  at  the 
head  of  the  rioters.  None  knew  them ;  but  so  boldly 
they  comported  themselves,  heading  the  charges, 
marshalling  the  ranks,  here  throwing  up  barricades, 
there  plucking  down  doors  and  gates,  breaking  open 
the  prisons,  and  setting  fire  to  private  houses,  that 
presently  the  whisper  spread  they  were  Castor  and 
Pollux;  till,  at  length,  falling  into  the  hands  of  the 

148 


1    EXLIST    AN    ARMY 

tiediles,  these  dioscuri  were  found  to  be  two  poor 
lunatics  escaped  from  a  house  of  detention.  Tf  we 
could  discover  another  such  pair  among  the  mob, 
now!" 

"  We  are  wasting  time  here  for  certain,"  said  I. 
"  And  where,  by  the  way,  is  Billy  Priske  ?  " 

"  If  you  waste  your  time  upstairs  here,  gentle- 
men," said  Miss  Whiteaway,  "  belike  you  may  do 
better  in  the  parlour,  where  I  had  prepared  for 
some  friends  of  mine  with  two-three  chickens  and  a 
ham." 

"  Ah,  to  be  sure!  "  said  I;  "the  packet-men." 

"  Never  you  worry,  young  sir,"  she  answered 
tartly,  "  so  long  as  they  don't  mind  eating  after  their 
betters.  And  as  for  your  man  Priske,  I  saw  him 
twenty  minutes  ago  escape  towards  Church  Street 
with  the  Methodists." 

"  Hang  it !  "  put  in  Nat  Fiennes,  "  if  I  hadn't 
clean  forgotten  the  Methodists !  " 

"  We  left  them  scurvily,"  said  I,  "  every  Jack 
and  Jill  of  them  but  our  friend  here."  I  nodded 
towards  the  little  man  in  black.  "  And  he  not  only 
saved  himself,  but  w^as  half  the  battle." 

The  little  man  seemed  to  come  out  of  himself  with 
a  start,  and  gazed  from  one  to  another  of  us  per- 
plexedly. 

"  Excuse  me,  gentlemen."     He  drew  himself  up 

149 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

with  dignity.  "  Do  my  ears  deceive  me,  or  are  you 
mistaking  me  for  a  Methodist  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  and  are  yon  not,  sir  ?  "  asked  my  father. 

"  Why,  good  God,  gentlemen ! — if  you'll  excuse 
me — but  I'm  the  parish  clerk  of  Axminster !  " 

My  father  recovered  himself  with  a  bow.  "  In 
Devon  ?  "  he  asked  gravely,  after  a  pause  in  which 
our  silence  paid  tribute  to  the  announcement. 

"  In  Devon,  sir ;  a  county  remarkable  for  its  at- 
tachment to  the  principles  of  the  Church  of  England. 
And  that  I  should  have  lived  to  be  mistaken  for  a 
Methodist!" 

"  But,  surely,  John  Wesley  himself  is  a  Clerk  in 
Holy  Orders  ?  and,  I  have  heard,  a  great  stickler  for 
the  Church's  authority." 

"  He  may  say  so,  sir,"  answered  the  little  man 
darkly.  "  He  may  say  so.  But,  if  he  means  it,  why 
does  he  go  about  encouraging  such  a  low  class  of 
people  ?  A  man,  sir,  is  known  by  the  company  he 
keeps." 

"  Is  that  in  the  Bible  ?  "  my  father  inquired.  "  I 
seem  to  remember,  on  the  contrary,  that  in  the  mat- 
ter of  consorting  with  publicans  and  sinners " 

"  It  won't  work,  sir.  It  has  been  tried  in  Ax- 
minster before  now,  and  you  may  take  my  word  for 
it  that  it  won't  work.  You  mustn't  suppose,  gentle- 
men," he  went  on,  including  us  all  in  the  argument, 

150 


I    ENLIST    AN    ARMY 

"  you  mustn't  take  me  for  one  of  those  parrot-Chris- 
tians who  just  echo  what  they  hear  in  the  pulpits  on 
Sundays.  I  think  about  these  things ;  and  I  find  that 
your  extreme  doctrines  may  do  all  very  well  for  the 
East  and  for  hot  countries  where  you  can  go  about 
half-naked  and  nobody  takes  any  notice ;  but  the 
Church  of  England,  as  its  name  implies,  is  the  only 
Church  for  England.  A  truly  Christian  Church, 
gentlemen,  because  it  selects  its  doctrines  from  the 
Gospels;  and  English,  sir,  to  the  core,  because  it 
selects  'em  with  a  special  view  to  the  needs  of  our 
beloved  country.  And  what  (if  T  may  so  put  it) 
is  the  basis  of  that  selection  ?  The  same,  sirs,  which 
we  all  admit  to  be  the  basis  of  England's  welfare 
and  the  foundation  of  her  society ;  in  other  words, 
the  land.  The  land,  gentlemen,  is  solid ;  and  our 
reformed  religion  (say  what  you  will,  I  am  not 
denying  that  it  has,  and  will  ever  have,  its  de- 
tractors) is  the  religion  for  solid  Englishmen." 

My  father  put  out  a  han^  and  arrested  Mr.  Fett, 
who  had  been  regarding  the  speaker  with  joyful  ad- 
miration, and  at  this  point  made  a  movement  to 
embrace  him. 

"  I  must  have  his  name !  "  murmured  Mr.  Fett. 
''  He  shall  at  least  tell  us  his  name !  " 

"  Bad  cock,  sir;  Ebenezer  Badcock,"  answered  the 
little  man,  producing  a  black-edged  visiting-card. 

151 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

"  But/'  urged  mj  father,  "  you  must  forgive  us, 
Mr.  Badcock,  if  we  find  it  hard  to  reconcile  your 
conduct  this  morning  with  these  sentiments,  on 
which,  for  the  moment,  I  offer  no  comment  except 
that  they  are  admirably  expressed.  What  song  the 
Sirens  sang,  Mr.  Badcock,  or  what  name  Achilles 
assumed  when  he  hid  himself  among  women,  are 
questions  (as  Sir  Thomas  Browne  observes)  not  be- 
yond conjecture,  albeit  the  Emperor  Tiberius  posed 
his  grammarians  with  'em.  But  when  a  man  openly 
champions  street-preaching,  and  goes  on  to  lay  about 
him  with  a  mace " 

"  Ah !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Badcock  with  sudden 
eagerness.  "  And  what — ^by  the  way,  sir — did  you 
think  of  that  performance  ?  " 

"  Why,  to  be  sure,  you  behaved  valiantly." 

The  little  man  blushed  with  pleasure.  "  You 
really  think  so  ?  It  struck  you  in  that  light,  did  it  ? 
Well,  now  I  am  glad — yes,  sir,  and  proud — to  hear 
that  opinion ;  because,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  thought 
it  pretty  fair  myself.  The  fact  is,  gentlemen,  I 
wasn't  altogether  sure  what  my  behaviour  would  be 
at  the  critical  moment.  You  may  deem  it  strange 
that  a  man  should  arrive  at  my  time  of  life  without 
being  sure  whether  he's  a  coward  or  a  brave  man ; 
but  Axminster — if  you  knew  the  place — affords  few 
opportunities  for  that  sort  of  thing." 

152 


I   ENLIST    AN   ARMY 

''  Allow  us  to  reassure  you,  then,"  said  my  father. 
"  But  there  remains  the  question,  why  you  did  it  ?  " 

Mr.  Badcock  rubbed  his  hands.  "  Appearances 
were  against  me,  I'll  allow,"  he  answ-ered  with  a 
bashful  chuckle ;  "  but  you  may  set  it  down  to  tchiv- 
alry.  We  all  have  our  weaknesses,  I  hope,  sir;  and 
tchivalry  is  mine." 

"  Chivalry  ?  "  echoed  my  father. 

"  You  spell  it  with  an  '  s  '  ?  Excuse  me ;  whatever 
schooling  I  have  picked  up  has  been  at  odd  times; 
but  I  am  always  open  to  correction,  I  thank  the 
Lord." 

"  But  why  call  it  a  weakness,  Mr.  Badcock  ?  " 

"  Call  it  a  hobby ;  call  it  what  you  like.  /  look 
upon  it  as  a  debt,  sir,  due  to  the  memory  of  my  late 
wife.  An  admirable  woman,  sir,  and  by  name 
Artemisia;  which,  I  have  sometimes  thought,  may 
partially  account  for  it.  Allow  me,  gentlemen."  He 
drew  a  small  shagreen  case  from  his  breast-pocket, 
opened  it,  and  displayed  a  miniature. 

"  Her  portrait  ?  " 

"  In  a  sense.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  will  not  con- 
ceal from  you,  gentlemen,  that  it  came  to  me  in  the 
form  of  a  pledge — that  being  my  late  profession — 
and  I  have  never  been  able  to  trace  the  original. 
But,  as  I  said  when  first  I  showed  it  to  the  late  Mrs. 
B..  '  My  dear,  you  might  have  sat  for  it.'     A  well- 

153 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

developed  woman,  gentlemen,  though  in  the  end  she 
went  out  like  the  snuff  of  a  candle,  that  being  the 
way  sometimes  with  people  who  have  never  known 
an  hour's  sickness.  '  Am  I  really  like  that,  Eben- 
ezer  ? '  she  asked.  '  In  your  prime,  my  dear,'  said  I 
— she  having  married  me  late  in  life  owing  to  her 
romantic  nature — '  in  your  prime,  my  dear,  I'll  defy 
any  one  to  tell  you  and  this  party  from  two  peas.* 
'  I  wish  I  knew  who  she  was,'  said  my  wife. 
'  Hadn't  you  best  leave  well  alone  ? '  said  I ;  '  for 
I  declare  till  this  moment  I  hadn't  dreamed  that  an- 
other such  woman  as  yourself  existed  in  the  world, 
and  it  gives  me  a  kind  of  bigamous  feeling  which 
I  can't  say  I  find  altogether  unpleasant.'  '  Then 
I'll  keep  the  thing,'  says  she  very  positively,  '  un- 
til the  owner  turns  up  and  redeems  it ;  '  which 
he  never  did,  being,  as  I  discovered,  a  strolling 
portrait  painter  very  much  down  on  his  luck.  So 
there  the  mystery  remained.  But  (as  I  was  tell- 
ing you),  though  a  first-rate  manager,  my  poor 
dear  wife  had  a  number  of  romantic  notions ;  and 
often  she  has  said  to  me  after  I'd  shut  up  shop, 
'  If  wishes  grew  on  brambles,  Ebenezer,  it's  not  a 
pawnbroker's  wife  I'd  be  at  this  moment.'  '  Well, 
my  dear,'  I'd  say  to  soothe  her,  '  there  is  a  little 
bit  of  that  about  the  profession,  now  you  come 
to  mention  it.'     '  And  there  was  a  time,'  she'd  go  on, 

154 


I   ENLIST    AN    ARMY 

*  when  I  dreamed  of  marryin'  a  red-cross  kniglit !  ' 
'  I  have  my  higher  moments,  Artemisia,'  I'd  say  half 
in  joke.  '  Why  not  try  shutting  your  eyes  ? '  But 
afterwards,  when  that  splendid  woman  was  gone  for 
ever,  and  my  daughter  Ilecb  (which  is  a  classical 
name  given  her  by  her  mother)  comfortably  married 
to  a  wholesale  glover,  and  me  left  at  home  a  solitary 
grandfather — which,  proud  as  you  may  be  of  it,  is 
a  slight  occupation — I  began  to  think  things  over 
and  find  there  was  more  in  my  poor  wife's  notions 
than  I'd  ever  allowed.  And  the  upshot  was  that 
seeing  this  advertisement  by  chance  in  a  copy  of  the 
Sherborne  Messenger,  I  determined  to  shut  up  shop 
and  let  Axminster  think  I  was  gone  on  a  holiday, 
while  I  gave  it  a  trial;  for,  you  see,  I  was  not  al- 
together sure  of  myself." 

"  Excuse  me,  Badcock,"  interrupted  Mr.  Fett,  ad- 
vancing towards  him  with  outstretched  arms ;  "  but 
have  you  perused  the  books  of  chivalry,  or  is  this 
the  pure  light  of  nature  ?  " 

"  Books,  sir? "  answered  Mr.  Badcock  seriously. 
"  I  never  knew  there  were  any  books  about  it.  I 
never  heard  of  tchivalry  except  from  my  late  wife; 
and  you'll  excuse  the  force  of  habit,  but  she  pro- 
nounced it  the  same  as  in  chibbles." 

"  You  never  read  of  the  meeting  of  Amadis  and 
Sir  Galaor?" 

155 


Sm    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

Mr.  Badcock  shook  his  head. 

"  Nor  of  Percival  and  Galahad,  nor  of  Sir  Balin 
and  Sir  Balan  ?     No  ?     Then  embrace  me !  " 

"  Sir  ?  " 

"  Embrace  me  !  " 

"  Sit  do-rtTi,  the  pair  of  you,"  my  father  com- 
manded. "  I  have  a  proposal  to  make,  which,  if  I 
mistake  not,  will  interest  you  both.  Mr.  Badcock, 
I  have  heard  your  aspirations,  and  can  fulfil  them 
in  a  degree  that  will  surprise  you.  I  like  you,  Mr. 
Badcock." 

"  The  feeling,  sir,  is  mutchual."  Mr.  Badcock 
bowed  with  much  amiability. 

"  Is  time  an  object  with  you  ?  " 

"  None  whatever,  sir.     I  am  on  a  holiday." 

"  Will  you  be  my  guest  to-night  ?  " 

"  With  the  more  pleasure,  sir,  after  my  experience 
of  the  inns  in  these  parts.  Though  I  may  have  pre- 
sented her  to  you  in  a  somewhat  romantic  light, 
my  Artemisia  did  know  how  to  make  a  bed ;  and 
twenty-two  years  of  her  ministrations,  not  to  men- 
tion her  companionship,  have  coddled  me  in  this  par- 
ticular." 

"  And  you,  sir  " — my  father  turned  to  Mr.  Fett — 
"  will  you  accompany  us  ?  " 

"  With  what  ulterior  object  ? "  demanded  Mr. 
Fett.     "  You  will  excuse  my  speaking  as  a  business 

156 


I    ENLIST    AN    ARMY 

man,  and  overlook  the  damned  bad  manners  of  the 
question  for  the  sake  of  its  appropriateness." 

My  father  smiled.  "  Why,  sir,  I  was  proposing  to 
invite  yon  to  a  sea  voyage  with  me." 

"  There  was  a  time,  before  commerce  claimed  me, 
when  the  mere  hint  of  a  nautical  expedition  had 
evoked  an  emotion  which,  if  it  survive  at  all,  lingers 
but  as  in  a  sea-shell  the  whisper  of  the  parent  ocean." 

"  As  a  supercargo,  at  four  shillings  per  diem" 
suggested  my  father. 

"Say  no  more,  sir;  I  agree." 

"  As  for  Mr.  Fiennes — nay,  lad,  I  remember  you 
well."  My  father  turned  to  him  with  that  sweet 
courtesy  which  few  ever  resisted.  "  And  blush  not, 
lad,  if  I  guess  that  to  you  we  all  owe  this  meeting: 
'twere  a  bravery  well  beseeming  your  blood.  As  for 
Mr.  Fiennes,  he  will  accompany  us  in  heart  if  he 
cannot  in  presence — being,  as  I  understand,  destined 
for  the  law  ?  " 

"  Why,  sir,  as  for  that,"  stammered  Nat,  "  I  have 
had  the  devil's  own  dispute  with  my  father." 

"  You  treated  him  with  all  respect,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  With  all  the  respect  in  the  world,  sir.  But  it 
scarcely  matters,  since  he  has  cast  me  off,  and  with- 
out a  penny." 

"  Why,  then,  you  can  come  too !  "  cried  my  father, 
gi'ipping  him  by  the  hand.     "Bravo,  Prosper!  that 

157 


SIR    JOHA^    CONSTANTINE 

makes  five;  and  with  Billy  Priske,  when  we  can 
find  him,  six ;  and  that  leaves  but  one  to  find  before 
dinner-time."  He  pulled  out  his  watch.  "  Lord  !  " 
he  cried,  "  and  'tis  high  time  to  feel  hungry,  too. 
If  this  lady  now  will  repeat  her  hospitable  offer " 

I  thought  at  the  moment,  and  I  thought  once  or 
twice  during  the  meal  downstairs,  that  my  father 
was  taxing  this  poor  woman's  hospitality.  I  doubted 
that  he,  himself  so  carelessly  hospitable,  might  for- 
get to  offer  her  payment;  and  lingered  after  the 
others  had  trooped  into  the  passage,  with  purpose  to 
remind  him  privately. 

"  Come,"  said  he,  and  made  a  motion  to  leave, 
still  without  offering  to  pay.  On  the  threshold  I 
had  almost  turned  to  whisper  to  him  when  the  woman 
came  after  and  touched  his  arm. 

"  ISTay,  Sir  John,"  said  she  eagerly  in  a  low,  hoarse 
voice,  "  let  the  lad  hear  me  thank  you.  He  is  old 
enough  to  understand  and  clean  enough  to  profit. 
Shut  the  door,  child.     You  know  me.  Sir  John  ?  " 

My  father  bent  his  head.  "  I  never  forget  a  face," 
said  he  quietly. 

"  Take  notice  of  that,  boy.  Your  father  remem- 
bers me,  whom  to  my  knowledge  he  never  saw  but 
once,  and  then  as  a  magistrate,  when  he  sat  to  judge 
me.     Never  mind  the  offence,  lad.     I  am  a  sinful 

woman,  and  the  punishment  was " 

158 


I    ENLIST    AX    ARMY 

"  Nay,  nay !  "  put  in  my  father  gently. 

"  The  punishment  was,"  she  continued,  harden- 
ing her  voice,  "  to  strip  me  to  the  waist  and  whip 
me  in  public.  The  law  allowed  this,  and  this  they 
would  have  done  to  me.  But  your  father,  being 
chairman  of  the  bench — for  the  offence  lav  outside 
the  borough — would  have  none  of  it,  and  argued  and 
forced  three  other  magistrates  to  give  way.  Little 
good  he  did,  you  may  say,  seeing  that  my  name  is 
such  in  Falmouth  that,  only  by  entering  my  door,  the 
Mayor  just  now  did  what  all  his  cleverness  could 
never  have  done — stopped  a  riot  by  a  silly,  brutal 
laugh — the  chief  magistrate  taking  shelter  with  Moll 
Whiteaway!  You  can't  get  below  that  for  fun,  as 
the  folk  will  take  it ;  and  yet  I  say  your  father  did 
good,  for  he  saved  me  from  the  worst.  And  to-day 
of  his  goodness  he  has  not  remembered  my  sins,  but 
treated  me  as  though  they  were  not ;  and  to-day, 
as  only  a  good  man  can,  he  goes  from  my  house, 
no  man  thinking  to  laugh  except  at  his  simplicity, 
even  though  it  were  known  that  I  kissed  his  hand. 
God  bless  you.  Sir  John,  and  teach  your  son  to  be 
merciful  to  women !  " 

My  father  was  ever  so  shy  of  his  owti  kind  actions 
that,  when  detected  by  chance  or  painfully  tracked 
out  in  one,  he  kept  always  a  quotation  ready  to 
justify  what  pure  impulse  had  prompted.     So  now, 

159 


SIR    JOH^^    COXSTAXTINE 

as  we  hurried  across  the  deserted  Market  Strand  to 
catch  up  with  the  other  three,  he  must  needs  brazen 
things  out  with  the  authority  of  Bishop  Taylor. 

"  It  was  a  maxim  of  that  excellent  divine,"  said 
he,  "  that  Christian  censure  should  never  be  used  to 
make  a  sinner  desperate;  for  then  he  either  sinks 
under  the  burden  or  grows  impudent  and  tramples 
upon  it.  A  charitable,  modest  remedy  (says  he) 
preserves  that  which  is  virtue's  girdle — fear  and 
blushing.  Honour,  dear  lad,  is  the  peculiar  coun- 
sellor of  well-bred  natures,  and  these  are  few;  but 
almost  in  all  men  you  will  find  a  certain  modesty 
towards  sin,  and  were  I  a  king  my  judges  should  be 
warned  that  their  duty  is  to  chasten;  whereas  by 
punishing  immoderately  they  can  but  effect  the  exact 
opposite." 

We  found  our  trio  waiting  for  us  on  the  far  side 
of  the  square ;  and,  having  fetched  our  horses  and 
left  an  order  at  the  inn  for  Billy  Priske  on  his  re- 
turn to  mount  and  follow  us,  wended  our  way  out 
of  the  town.  The  streets  on  this  side  were  deserted 
and  mournful,  the  shopkeepers  having  fastened  their 
shutters  for  fear  of  the  mob,  of  whose  present  doings 
no  sound  reached  us  but  a  faint  murmuring  hubbub 
borne  on  the  afternoon  air  from  the  north-east — 
that  is,  from  the  direction  of  the  Green  Bank  and  the 
Penryn  Road. 

160 


I    ENLIST    AN    ARMY 

My  father  led  the  way  at  a  foot's  pace,  and  seemed 
to  ride  pondering,  for  his  chin  was  sunk  on  his 
chest,  and  he  had  pulled  his  hat-hrini  well  over  his 
eyes  (but  this  may  have  been  against  the  July  sun). 
After  him  tramped  Mr,  Fett  in  eager  converse  with 
the  little  pawnbroker,  now  questioning  him  shrilly, 
now  halting  to  regard  him  with  mute  ecstasy,  in  a 
trance  of  holy  joy,  as  a  man  who  has  dug  up  a  sud- 
den treasure  and  for  the  moment  can  only  gaze  at 
it  and  hug  himself.  Nat  and  I  brought  up  the  rear, 
he  striding  at  my  stirrup  and  pouring  forth  the  tale 
of  his  adventures  since  we  parted.  A  dozen  times 
he  rehearsed  the  scene  of  the  parental  quarrel,  and 
interrupted  each  rehearsal  with  a  dozen  anxious 
questions.  Ought  he  to  have  given  this  answer? — 
to  have  uttered  that  defiance  ?  Did  I  think  he  had 
shown  self-control?  Had  he  treated  the  old  gentle- 
man with  becoming  respect  ?  Would  I  put  myself 
in  his  place  ?  Suppose  it  had  been  my  o^vn  father, 
now 

"  But  yours,  lad,  is  a  father  in  a  thousand,"  he 
broke  off  bitterly.  "  I  had  never  a  notion  that  father 
and  son  could  be  friends,  as  are  you  and  he.  He  is 
splendid — splendid  !  " 

I  glanced  at  him  quickly  and  turned  my  face  aside, 
suspecting  that  he  took  my  father  for  a  madman,  and 
was  kindly  concealing  the  discovery.     Nevertheless  I 

161 


SIE    JOHN    CONSTAXTINE 

hardened  my  voice  to  answer,  "  You  will  say  so  when 
you  know  him  better.  And  my  uncle  Gervase  runs 
him  a  good  second." 

"  Faith,  then,  I  wish  you'd  persuade  your  uncle 
to  adopt  me.  I'm  not  envious,  Prosper,  in  a  general 
way,  but  your  luck  gives  me  a  deuced  orphanly  feel- 
ing. Have  I  been  over-hasty  ?  That  is  the  question ; 
whether  'twas  nobler  in  the  mind  to  suffer  the  slings 
and  arrows  of  accusing  conscience  or  to  up  and  have 
it  out  with  the  old  man." 

"  Pardon  me,  gentlemen " — Mr.  Fett  wheeled 
about  suddenly  on  the  road  ahead  of  us — "  but  it 
was  by  accident  that  I  overheard  you,  and  by  a  singu- 
lar coincidence  at  that  moment  I  happened  to  be 
discussing  the  same  subject  with  Mr.  Badcock  here." 

"What  subject?" 

"  Missiles,  sir.  It  appears  that,  when  his  blood 
is  up,  Mr.  Badcock  finds  himself  absolutely  careless 
of  missiles.  He  declares  that,  with  a  sense  of  smell 
as  acute  as  most  men's,  he  was  unaware  to-day  of 
having  been  struck  with  a  rotten  egg  until  I,  at  ten 
paces'  distance,  drew  his  attention  to  it.  Now  that 
is  a  degree  of  courage — insensibility — call  it  what 
you  will — to  which  I  make  no  pretence.  The  cut  and 
thrust,  gentlemen,  the  couched  lance,  even  (within 
limits)  the  battering-ram,  would  have  (I  feel  confi- 
dent) comparatively  few  terrors  for  me.     But  mis- 

1G2 


I    EXLTST    A^^    ARMY 

siles  I  abominate.  Drawing,  as  I  am  bound  to  do, 
my  anticipations  of  the  tented  field  from  experience 
gathered — I  say  it  literally,  gathered — before  the 
footlights,  I  confess  to  some  sympathy  with  the  gen- 
tleman who  assured  Harry  Percy  that  but  for  these 
vile  guns  he  would  himself  have  been  a  soldier.  You 
will  not  misunderstand  me.  I  believe  on  my  faith 
that  as  a  military  man  I  w^as  born  out  of  my  time. 
The  scythed  chariots  of  Boadicea,  for  instance,  must 
have  been  damned  inconvenient;  yet  I  can  conceive 
myself  jumping  'em.     But  a  stone,  as  I  learnt  in  my 

boyhood — a  stone,  sirs,  and  a  fortiori  a  bullet " 

"  Hist !  "  broke  in  mv  father,  at  the  same  moment 
reining  up.  "  Prosper,  what  do  you  make  of  that 
noise  up  yonder?  " 

I  listened.     "  It  sounds  to  me,  sir,  like  a  heavy 

cart " 

"  Or  a  waggon.  To  my  hearing  there  are  two 
horses." 

"  And  runaway  ones,  by  the  shouting." 
We  had  reached  a  point  of  the  road  (not  far  from 
home)  where  a  steep  lane  cut  across  it:  a  track  sel- 
dom used  but  scored  with  old  ruts,  sunk  between 
hedges  full  sixteen  feet  high,  leading  doA\Ti  from  a 
back  gate  of  Constantine  and  a  deserted  lodge  to  a 
quay  by  the  waterside.  Xot  once  in  three  months, 
within  my  remembrance,  did  cart  or  waggon  pass 

163 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

along  this  lane,  which  indeed  grew  a  fine  crop  of 
grass  and  docks  between  the  ruts. 

"  Nay,"  said  my  father  after  a  few  seconds,  "  I 
gave  you  a  false  alarm,  gentlemen.  The  shouting, 
whatever  it  means,  is  over.  Your  pardon,  Mr.  Fett, 
that  I  interrupted  you." 

"  'Naj,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Eett,  stepping  past  him  to 
reconnoitre  the  lane,  "  I  was  but  remarking  what  a 
number  of  the  wise  have  observed  before  me,  that  a 
stone  which  has  left  the  hand  is  in  the  hands  of 
the  dev " 

He  ducked  his  head  with  a  cry  as  a  stone  whizzed 
past  and  within  a  foot  of  it.  On  the  instant  the 
loud  rattle  and  thunder  of  cartwheels  broke  forth 
again,  and  now  but  a  short  distance  up  the  lane ;  also 
a  voice  almost  as  loudly  vociferating;  and,  almost 
before  Mr.  Fett  could  run  back  to  us,  a  whole  volley 
of  stones  flew  hurtling  across  the  road. 

"  Hi,  there !  Halt !  "  My  father  struck  spur  and 
rode  forward,  in  time  to  catch  at  and  check  the 
leader  of  two  horses  slithering  down-hill  tandem- 
fashion  before  the  weight  of  a  heavy  cart.  "  Con- 
found you,  sir!  What  the  devil  d'you  mean  by 
flinging  stones  in  this  manner  across  the  middle  of 
the  King's  highway  ?  " 

The  man — he  was  one  of  the  seamen  of  the  Gaunt- 
Icf  —stood  up  in  the  cart  upon  a  load  of  stones  and 

164 


I    ENLIST    AN    ARMY 

grinned.  In  one  hand  he  gripped  the  reins,  in  the 
other  a  fistful  of  flints. 

"  Your  honour's  pardon,"  said  he,  lifting  his  fore- 
arm and  drawing  the  back  of  it  across  his  dripping 
brow,  "  but  the  grey  mare  for'rad  won't  pull,  and 
the  whip  here  won't  reach  her.  I  couldn't  think 
upon  no  better  way." 

"  You  mean  to  tell  me  you  have  been  pelting  that 
poor  brute  all  down  the  lane  ?  " 

"  I  couldn't  think  upon  no  better  way,"  the  sea- 
man repeated  wistfully,  almost  plaintively.  "  She's 
what  you  might  call  sensitive  to  stones." 

"  Intelligent  beast !  "  commented  Mr.  Fett. 

"  And  I  bought  that  mare  only  six  months  ago !  " 
In  truth  my  father  had  found  the  poor  creature  wan- 
dering the  roads  and  starving,  cast  off  by  her  owner 
as  past  w^ork,  and  had  purchased  her  out  of  mere  hu- 
manity for  thirty  shillings. 

"  But  what  business  have  you  to  be  driving  my 
cart  and  horses  ?  "  he  demanded.  "  And  what's  the 
meaning  of  these  stones  you're  carting  ?  " 

"  Ballast,  your  honour." 

"Ballast?" 

"  I  don't  know  how  much  of  it'll  ever  arrive  at 
this  rate,"  confessed  the  seaman,  dropping  the  hand- 
ful of  flints  and  scratching  his  head.  "  'Tis  buying 
speed   at   a   terrible   cost   of   jettison.      But    Cap'n 

165 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTlisFE 

Pomery's  last  order  to  me  was  to  make  haste  about 
it  if  we're  to  catch  to-morrow's  tide." 

"  Captain  Pomerj  sent  you  for  these  stones  ?  " 

"  Why,  Lord  love  your  honour,  a  vessel  can't  dis- 
charge two  dozen  Papist  monks  and  cattle  and  im- 
plements to  correspond  without  wantin'  something  in 
their  place.  T^ice  flat  stones,  too,  the  larger-sized  be, 
and  not  liable  to  shift  in  a  sea-way." 

But  here  another  strange  noise  drew  our  eyes  up 
the  lane,  as  an  old  man  in  a  smock  frock — a  pen- 
sioner of  the  estate,  and  by  name  John  Worthyvale — 
came  hobbling  round  the  corner  and  down  the  hill 
towards  us,  using  his  long-handled  road  hammer  for 
a  staff  and  uttering  shrill,  tremulous  cries  of  rage. 

"  Vengeance,  Sir  John !  Vengeance  for  my  I'il 
heap  o'  stones !  " 

"  Why,  Worthyvale,  what's  the  matter  ?  "  asked 
my  father  soothingly. 

"  My  I'il  heap  o'  stones,  Sir  John ;  my  poor  I'il 
heap  o'  stones !  What's  to  become  o'  me,  master  ? 
Where  will  your  kindness  find  a  bellyful  for  me, 
if  these  murderin'  seamen  take  away  my  I'il  heap 
o'  stones  ?  " 

My  father  laid  a  hand  on  the  old  man's  shoulder. 

"  Captain  Pomery  wants  them  for  ballast,  Worthy- 
vale. You  understand  ?  It  appears  he  can  find  none 
so  suitable." 

166 


I    EXLIST    A^    ARMY 

"  No,  I  don't  understand !  "  exclaimed  the  old  fel- 
low fiercely.  "  This  has  been  a  black  week  for  me, 
Sir  John.  First  of  all  my  darter's  youngest  darter 
comes  and  tells  me  she've  picked  up  with  a  man. 
Seems  'tvvas  only  last  year  she  was  rimnin'  about 
in  short  frocks;  but  dang  it!  the  time  must  ha' 
slipped  away  somehow  whilst  I've  a-sat  hammerin' 
stones,  an'  now  there'll  be  no  person  left  to  mind 
me.  iNText  news,  I  hear  from  Master  Gervase  that 
you  be  goin'  foreign,  Sir  John,  with  Master  Prosper 
here.  The  world  gets  that  empty,  I  wish  I  were 
dead,  I  do.  An'  now  they've  a-took  my  I'il  heap 
o'  stones !  " 

"  And  this  old  man's  sires,"  said  my  father  to  me, 
but  so  that  he  did  not  hear,  "  held  land  in  Domesday 
Book — twelve  virgates  of  land  with  close  on  forty 
carucates  of  arable,  villeins  and  borderers  and  bond- 
servants, six  acres  of  wood,  a  hundred  and  twenty 
of  pasture ;  and  he  makes  his  last  stand  on  this  heap 
of  stones.  Ballast  ? "  He  turned  to  the  seaman. 
"  Did  I  not  tell  Captain  Pomery  to  ballast  with 
wine  ?  " 

"  We  were  carrying  it  all  the  forenoon,"  the  sea- 
man answered.  "  There  was  two  hogsheads  of 
claret." 

"  And  the  hogshead  of  Madeira,  with  what  re- 
mained of  the  brown  sherry  ?     Likewise  in  bottles 

167 


SIR    JOHK    COXSTANTINE 

twelve  dozen  of  the  Hermitage  and  as  much  again  of 
the  Pope's  wine,  of  Avignon  ?  " 

"  It  all  went  in,  sir.  Master  Gervase  checked  it 
on  board  by  the  list." 

"  For  the  rest  we  are  reduced  to  stones  ?  Then, 
Prosper,  there  remains  no  other  course  open  to  us." 

"  Than  what,  sir  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  We  must  enlist  this  old  man ;  and  that  fulfils  our 
number." 

"  Old  John  Worthyvale  ?  "  I  laughed,  incredulous. 

"  Why  not  ?  He  can  sit  in  the  hold  and  crack  stones 
until  I  devise  his  part  in  the  campaign.  Say  no 
more.  I  have  an  inkling  he  will  prove  not  the  least 
useful  man  of  our  company." 

"  As  to  that,  sir,"  I  answered  with  a  shrug  of  the 
shoulders  and  a  glance  at  Mr.  Fett  and  Mr.  Bad- 
cock,  "  I  don't  feel  able  to  contradict  you." 

"  Then  here  we  are  assembled,"  said  mv  father 
cheerfully,  with  the  air  of  one  closing  a  discussion ; 
"  the  more  by  token  that  here  comes  Billy  Priske. 
Why,  man,"  he  asked  as  Billy  rode  up — but  so  de- 
jectedly that  his  horse  seemed  to  droop  its  ears  in 
sympathy — "  what  ails  you  ?  l^ot  wounded,  are 
you  ?  " 

"  Worse,"  answered  Billy,  and  groaned. 

"  We  were  told  you  got  quit  of  the  crowd." 

"  So  T  did,"  said  Billy.     "  Damn  it !  " 

168 


I    ENLIST    AN    ARMY 


a 


They  followed  you  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  No,  they  didn't,  and  I  wish  they  had." 

"  Then  what  on  earth  has  liappened  ?  " 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "  Having  no  hair  of  his 
own  to  speak  of,  Billy  reached  forward  and  ran  his 
fingers  through  his  horse's  mane,  "  I've  engaged  to 
get  married.     That's  what  has  happened." 

"  Good  Lord  !  " 

"  To  a  female  Methody,  in  a  Quaker  bonnet.  I 
had  no  idea  of  any  such  thing  when  I  followed  her. 
She  was  sittin'  on  the  first  milestone  out  of  Falmouth 
and  jabbin'  her  heel  into  the  dust,  like  a  person 
in  a  pet.  First  of  all,  when  I  spoke  to  her,  she 
Avouldn't  tell  what  had  annoyed  her;  but  later  on  it 
turned  out  she  had  come  expectin'  to  be  made  a 
martyr  of,  and  everything  was  lookin'  keenly  that 
way  until  Sir  John  came  and  interfered,  as  she 
put  it." 

"  And  she  said,"  suggested  Mr.  Fett,  "  that  she 
didn't  mind  what  man  could  do  unto  her  ?  " 

"  The  very  words  she  used,  sir !  "  said  Billy,  his 
brow  clearing  as  a  prisoner's  will  when  counsel  sup- 
plies him  with  a  defence. 

"  And,  when  you  took  her  at  her  word,  like  a 
Christian  woman  she  turned  the  other  cheek  ?  " 

"  She  did,  sir,  and  no  harm  meant;  but  just  doing 
it  gay,  as  a  man  will," 

169 


SIR  JOHN  co:nstantjne 

"  But  when  you  explained  this,  she  wouldn't  take 
no  for  an  answer  ?  " 

"  She  would  not,  sir.  She  seemed  not  to  under- 
stand. Then  I  looked  at  her  bonnet  and,  a  thought 
striking  me,  I  tried  '  nay  '  instead.  But  that  didn't 
work  no  better  than  the  other.  If  you  could  hide 
me  for  to-night,  Sir  John " 

"  You  had  best  sleep  aboard  the  Gauntlet  to- 
night," said  my  father.  "  If  the  woman  calls  I  will 
have  a  talk  with  her.  What  is  her  name,  by  the 
way  ?  " 

"  Martha." 

"  But  I  mean  her  full  name." 

"  I  didn't  get  so  far  as  to  inquire,  Sir  John.  But 
the  point  is,  she  knows  mine." 


170 


CHAPTER   X 

OF    THE    DISCUSSION    HELD    ON    BOARD    THE   GAUNTLET 

The  Pilot  assured  us  that,  considering  the  Gentleness  of  the 
Winds  and  their  pleasant  Contentions,  as  also  the  Clearness  of 
the  Atmosphere  and  the  Calm  of  the  Current,  we  stood  neither  in 
Hope  of  much  Good  nor  in  Fear  of  much  Harm  .  .  .  and  advised 
us  to  let  the  Ship  drive,  nor  busy  ourselves  with  anything  but 
making  good  Cheer. — The  Fifth  Book  of  the  Good  Panfagruel. 

It  appeared  that,  nnknown  to  me,  my  father  had 
already  made  his  arrangements  with  Captain  Pom- 
ery,  and  we  were  to  sail  with  the  morning's  tide. 
During  supper — which  Billy  Priske  had  no  sooner 
laid  than  he  withdrew  to  collect  his  kit  and  carry 
it  down  to  the  ship,  taking  old  Worth^-rale  for  com- 
pany— our  good  Vicar  arrived,  as  well  to  hid  us 
good-bye  as  in  some  curiosity  to  learn  what  recruits 
we  had  picked  up  in  Falmouth.  I  think  the  sight 
of  them  impressed  him :  but  at  the  tale  of  our  day's 
adventures,  and  especially  when  he  heard  of  our 
championing  the  Methodists,  his  hands  went  up  in 
horror. 

"The  Methodists!"  (For  two  years  past  the 
Vicar  had  occupied  a  part  of  his  leisure  in  writing  a 

171 


SIR    JOHN    COXSTANTINE 

pamphlet  against  them :  and  by  "  leisure  "  I  mean  all 
such  days  as  were  either  too  inclement  for  fishing, 
or  thunderous  so  that  the  trout  would  not  rise.) 

"  My  dear  friend,  while  you  have  been  sharpen- 
ing the  sword  of  St.  Athanasius  against  'em,  the 
rabble  has  been  beforehand  with  you  and  given  'em 
bloody  noses.  The  blood  of  the  martyrs  is  the  seed 
of  heresy — if  you  call  the  Wesleyans  heretics — as 
well  as  of  the  Church." 

The  Vicar  sighed.  "  I  have  been  slack  of  pace 
and  feeble  of  will.    Yes,  yes,  I  deserve  the  reproach." 

My  father  laid  a  hand  on  his  shoulder.  "  Tut, 
tut !  Cannot  you  see  that  I  was  not  reproaching, 
but  rather  daring  to  commend  you  for  an  exemplar  ? 
There  is  a  slackness  which  comes  of  weak  will;  but 
there  is  another  and  a  very  noble  slackness  which 
proceeds  from  the  two  strongest  things  on  earth,  con- 
fidence and  charity ;  charity,  which  naturally  inclines 
to  be  long-suffering,  and  confidence,  which,  having 
assurance  in  its  cause,  dares  to  trust  that  natural 
inclination.  Dissent  in  the  first  generation  is  usually 
admirable  and  almost  always  respectable:  men  don't 
leave  the  Church  for  fun,  but  because  they  have 
thought  and  discovered  (as  they  believe)  something 
amiss  in  her — something  which  in  nine  cases  out  of 
ten  she  would  be  the  better  for  considering.  But 
dissent  in  the  second  and  third  generation  usually 

172 


THE    DISCOUKSE   OX   THE    GAUNTLET 

rests  on  bad  temper,  which  is  not  admirable  at  all, 
though  often  excusable  because  the  Church's  perse- 
cution has  produced  it.  Believe  me,  my  dear  Vicar, 
that  if  all  the  bishops  followed  your  example  and 
slept  on  their  wrath  against  heresy,  they  would  wake 
up  and  find  nine-tenths  of  the  heretics  back  in  the 
fold.  Indeed  I  wish  your  good  lady  would  let  you 
pack  your  nightcap  and  come  with  us.  You  could 
hire  a  curate  over  from  Falmouth." 

"  Could  I  write  my  pamphlet  at  sea  ?  '* 

"  'No :  but,  better  still,  by  the  time  you  returned 
the  necessity  for  it  would  be  over." 

The  Vicar  smiled.  "  You  counsel  lethargy  ? — 
you,  who  in  an  hour  or  two  start  for  Corsica,  and 
with  no  more  to-do  than  if  bound  on  a  picnic !  " 

"  Ay,  but  for  love,"  answered  my  father.  "  In 
love  no  man  can  be  too  prompt." 

"  I  believe  you,  sir,"  hiccupped  Mr.  Fett,  who  had 
been  drinking  more  than  was  good  for  him.  "  And 
so,  begad,  does  your  man  Priske.  Did  any  one  mark, 
just  now,  how  like  a  shooting  star  he  glided  in  the 
night  from  Venus's  eye?  Love,  sir?"  he  turned  to 
me.  "  The  tender  passion  ?  Is  that  our  little  game  ? 
Is  that  the  face  that  launched  a  thousand  ships  and 
burnt  the  topless  towers  of  Ilium  ?  O  Troy !  O 
Helen !  You'll  permit  me  to  add,  with  a  glance  at 
our  friend  Priske's  predicament,  O  Dido !     At  five 

173 


SIR    JOH^    COXSTAXTINE 

shillings  per  diem  I  realise  the  twin  ambitions  of 
a  life-time  and  combine  the  supercargo  with  the  buck. 
Well,  well,  clierchez  la  femme." 

"  You  pronounce  it  '  share-shay  '  ?  "  inquired  ^h\ 
Badcock.  "  Xow  I  have  seen  it  spelt  the  same  as 
in  '  church.'  " 

"  The  same  as  in  eh ?  "  Mr.  Fett  fixed  him 

with  a  glassy  but  reproachful  eye.  "  Badcock,  you 
are  premature,  premature  and  indelicate." 

Here  my  father  interposed  and,  heading  the  talk 
back  to  the  Methodists,  soon  had  the  Vicar  and  the 
little  pawnbroker  in  full  cry — parson  and  clerk  anti- 
phonal,  "  matched  in  mouth  like  bells  " — on  church 
discipline;  which  gave  him  opportunity,  while  !N^at 
and  I  at  our  end  of  the  table  exchanged  the  dear 
converse  and  dearer  silences  of  friendship,  to  con- 
fer with  my  uncle  Gervase  and  run  over  a  score 
of  parting  instructions  on  the  management  of  the 
estate,  the  ordering  of  the  household,  and,  in  particu- 
lar, the  entertainment  of  our  Trappist  guests.  Per- 
ceiving with  the  corner  of  his  eye  that  we  two  were 
restless  to  leave  the  table,  he  pushed  the  bottle 
towards  us. 

"  My  lads,"  said  he,  "  when  the  drinking  tires  let 
the  talk  no  longer  detain  you." 

We  thanked  him,  and  with  a  glance  at  Mr.  Fett — 
who  had  fallen  asleep  with  his  head  on  his  arms — 

174 


THE   DISCOURSE   ON    THE    GAUNTLET 

stepped  out  upon  the  moonlit  terrace.  I  waited  for 
Nat  to  speak  and  give  me  a  chance  to  have  it  out 
with  him,  if  he  doubted  (as  he  must,  me  thought)  mj 
father's  sanity.  But  he  gazed  over  the  park  at  our 
feet,  the  rolling  shadows  of  the  woodland,  the  far 
estuary  where  one  moonray  trembled,  and,  stretching 
out  both  hands,  drew  the  spiced  night-air  into  his 
lungs  with  a  sob.     "  O  Prosper !  " 

"  You  are  wondering  where  to  find  your  room  ?  " 
said  I,  as  he  turned  and  glanced  up  at  the  grey 
glimmering  fagade.  "  The  simplest  way  is  to  pick  up 
the  first  lantern  you  see  in  the  hall,  light  it,  walk  up- 
stairs, enter  what  room  you  choose,  and  take  posses- 
sion of  its  bed.  You  have  five  hours  to  sleep,  if  you 
need  sleep.     Or  shall  I  guide  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  he ;  "  the  first  is  the  only  way  in  this 
enchanted  house.  But  I  was  thinlving  that  by  rights, 
while  we  are  standing  here,  those  windows  should 
blaze  with  lights  and  break  forth  with  the  noise  of 
dancing  and  minstrelsy.  To  such  a  castle,  high 
against  such  a  velvet  night  as  this,  would  Sir  Lance- 
lot come,  or  Sir  Gawain,  or  Sir  Perceval,  at  the  close 
of  a  hard  day." 

"  Wait  for  the  dawn,  lad,  and  you  will  find  it 
rather  the  castle  overgrown  with  briers." 

"  And,  in  the  heart  of  them,  the  Rose !  " 

"  You  will  find  no  Sleeping  Beauty,  though  you 

175 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

hunt  through  all  its  rooms.     She  lies  yonder,  Nat, 
somewhere  out  beyond  the  sea  there." 

"  In  a  few  hours  we  sail  to  her.  O  Prosper,  and 
we  will  find  her !  This  is  better  than  any  dream, 
lad :  and  this  is  life !  " 

He  gazed  into  my  eyes  for  a  moment  in  the  moon- 
light, turned  on  his  heel,  and  strode  away  from  me 
towards  the  great  door,  which — like  every  door  in  the 
house — stood  wide  all  the  summer  night.  I  was 
staring  at  the  shadow  of  the  porch  into  which  he  had 
disappeared,  when  my  father  touched  my  elbow. 

"  There  goes  a  good  lad,"  said  he  quietly. 

"  And  my  best  friend." 

"  He  has  sobered  down  strangely  from  the  urchin 
I  remember  on  Winchester  meads ;  and  in  the  sober- 
ing he  has  grown  exalted.  A  man  might  almost  say," 
mused  my  father,  "  that  the  imp  in  him  had  shed 
itself  off  and  taken  flesh  in  that  Master  Fett  I  left 
snoring  with  his  head  on  my  dining-table.  An 
earthy  spirit,  that  Master  Fett ;  earthy  and  yet  some- 
what inhuman.  Your  Nat  Fiennes  has  the  clue  of 
life — if  only  Atropos  do  not  slit  it." 

Here  the  Vicar  came  out  to  take  his  leave,  wind- 
ing about  his  neck  and  throat  the  comforter  he  al- 
ways wore  as  a  protective  against  the  night-air.  It 
appeared  later  that  he  was  nettled  by  Mr.  Badcock's 
collapsing  beneath  the  table  just  as  they  had  reached 

176 


THE   DISCOUKSE    ON   THE    GAUNTLET 

No.  XX.  of  the  Thirty-nine  Articles  and  passed  it 
through  committee  by  consent. 

"  God  bless  you,  lad !  "  said  he,  and  shook  my 
hand.  "  In  seeking  your  kingdom  you  start  some 
way  ahead  of  Saul  the  son  of  Kish.  You  have  al- 
ready discovered  your  father's  asses." 

He  trudged  away  across  the  dewy  park  and  was 
soon  lost  in  the  darkness.  In  the  dim  haze  under 
the  moon,  having  packed  Mr.  Badcock  and  Mr.  Fett 
in  a  hand-cart,  we  trundled  them  down  to  the  shore 
and  lifted  them  aboard.  They  resisted  not,  nor 
stirred. 

By  three  o'clock  our  dispositions  were  made  and 
Captain  Pomery  professed  himself  ready  to  cast  off. 
I  returned  to  the  house  for  the  last  time,  to  awake 
and  fetch  Nat  Fiennes.  As  I  crossed  the  wet  sward 
the  day  broke  and  a  lark  sprang  from  the  bracken 
and  soared  above  me  singing.  But  I  went  hanging 
my  head,  heavy  with  lack  of  sleep. 

I  tried  five  rooms  and  found  them  empty.  In  the 
sixth  Nat  lay  stretched  upon  a  tattered  silk  cover- 
let. He  sprang  up  at  my  touch  and  felt  for  his 
sword. 

"  Past  three  o'clock  and  fine  clear  mornin' !  "  sang 
I,  mimicking  the  Oxford  watch,  and  with  my  foot 
the  tap  of  his  staff  as  he  had  used  to  pass  along 
Holywell. 

177 


SIR    JOH^^    COXSTANTINE 

"Hey!  now  the  day  dawis, 
The  jolly  cock  crawls 


"  The  wind  will  head  us  in  the  upper  reach :  but 
beyond  it  blows  fair  for  Corsica !  " 

He  leapt  to  his  feet  and  laughed,  blithe  as  the 
larks  now  chorusing  outside  the  window.  But  ray 
head  was  heavy,  and  somehow  my  heart  too,  as  we 
walked  down  to  the  shore. 

My  uncle  Gervase  stood  on  the  grass-grown  quay; 
my  father  on  the  deck.  They  had  already  said  their 
good-byes.  With  his  right  hand  my  uncle  took  mine, 
at  the  same  time  laying  his  left  on  my  shoulder ;  and 
said  he — 

"  Farewell,  lad.  The  rivers  in  Corsica  be  short 
and  eager,  as  I  hear;  and  slight  fishing  in  them 
near  the  coast,  the  banks  being  overgrown.  But  it 
seems  there  are  good  trout,  and  in  the  mountain 
pools. 

"  Whether  they  be  the  same  as  our  British  trout  1 
cannot  discover.  I  desire  you  to  make  certain.  Also 
if  the  sardines  of  those  parts  be  the  same  as  our 
Cornish  pilchards,  but  smaller.  Belike  they  start 
from  the  Mediterranean  Sea  and  reach  their  full  size 
on  our  coasts. 

"  The  migrations  of  fishes  are  even  less  under- 
stood than  those  of  the  birds.  Yet  both  (being  an- 
nual) will  teach  you,  if  you  consider  them,  to  think 

178 


THE   DISCOURSE   ON   THE    GAUNTLET 

little  of  this  parting.     God  knows,  lad,  how  sorely 
I  spare  you. 

"  Do  justice,  observe  mercy,  and  walk  humbly  be- 
fore thy  God.  This  if  they  should  happen  to  make 
you  king,  as  your  father  promises. 

"  They  have  an  animal  very  like  a  sheep,  but 
wilder  and  fiercer.  If  you  have  the  luck  to  shoot 
one,  I  shall  be  glad  of  his  skin. 

"  'Twill  be  a  job  here,  making  two  ends  meet. 
But  as  our  Lord  said.  Sufficient  for  the  day  is  its 
evil.     I  have  put  a  bottle  of  tar-water  in  your  berth. 

"  I  have  often  wished  to  set  eyes  on  the  Mediter- 
ranean Sea.  A  sea  without  tides  must  be  but  half 
a  sea — speaking  with  all  respect  to  the  Almighty, 
who  made  it. 

"  You  will  pick  up  the  wind  in  the  lower  reach. 

"  There  was  a  trick  or  two  of  fence  I  taught  you 
aforetime.  I  had  meant  to  remind  you  of  'em.  But 
enough,  lad.  Shake  hands  .  .  .  the  Lord  have  you 
in  His  keeping !  " 

Good  man !  For  a  long  w^iile  after  we  had  thrust 
off  from  the  quay,  the  two  seamen  in  the  cock-boat 
towing  us,  he  stood  there  and  waved  farewells;  but 
turned  before  we  reached  the  river  bend,  and  went 
his  way  up  through  the  woods — since  in  Cornw^all  it 
is  held  unlucky  to  watch  departing  friends  clean  out 
of  sight. 

179 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

Almost  at  once  I  went  below  in  search  of  my  ham- 
mock, and  there  slept  ten  solid  hours,  by  the  clock ; 
a  feat  of  which  I  never  witted  until,  coming  upon 
deck,  I  rubbed  my  eyes  to  find  no  sight  of  land,  but 
the  sea  all  around  us  and  Captain  Pomery  at  the 
helm  with  the  sun  but  a  little  above  his  right  shoul- 
der. The  sky,  but  for  a  few  fleeced  clouds,  was  clear ; 
a  brisk  north-westerly  breeze  blew  steady  on  our 
starboard  quarter,  and  before  it  the  ketch  ran  with 
a  fine  hiss  of  water  about  her  bluff  bows.  My  father 
and  Nat  were  stretched  with  a  board  between  them 
on  the  deck  by  the  foot  of  the  mizzen,  deep  in  a 
game  of  chequers:  and,  without  disturbing  them,  I 
stepped  amidships  where  Mr,  Fett  lay  prone  on  his 
belly,  his  chin  propped  on  both  hands,  in  discourse 
with  Billy  and  Mr.  Badcock,  who  reclined  with  their 
backs  against  the  starboard  bulwark. 

"  Tut,  man !  "  said  Mr,  Fett  cheerfully,  address- 
ing Billy.  "  You  have  taken  the  right  classical  way 
with  her:  think  of  Theseus  and  Ariadne,  Phaon  and 
Sappho,  .  .  .  We  are  back  in  the  world's  first  best 
age ;  when  a  man,  if  he  wanted  a  woman  to  wife, 
sailed  in  a  ship  and  abducted  her,  as  did  the  Tyrian 
sea-captain  with  lo  daughter  of  Inachus,  Jason  with 
Medea,  Paris  with  Helen  of  Greece ;  and  again,  when 
he  tired  of  her,  left  her  on  an  island  and  sailed 
away.     There  was  Sappho,  now;  she  ran  and  cast 

180 


THE   DISCOUKSE   ON    THE    GAUNTLET 

herself  off  a  rock.  And  Medea,  she  murdered  her 
children  in  revenge.  But  we  are  over-hasty,  to  talk 
of  children." 

Billy  groaned  aloud,  "  I  meant  no  harm  to  the 
woman." 

"  Nor  did  these  heroes.  As  I  was  saying,  on  board 
this  ship  I  find  myself  back  in  the  world's  dawn, 
ready  for  any  marvels,  but  responsible  (there's  the 
beauty  of  it)  only  to  my  ledger.  As  supercargo  I  sit 
careless  as  a  god  on  Olympus.  My  pen  is  trimmed, 
my  ink-pot  filled,  and  my  ledger  ruled  and  prepared 
for  miracles.  Item,  a  Golden  Fleece.  Item,  a 
king's  runaway  daughter,  slightly  damaged : 

"  ^Vhateve^  befell  the  good  ship  Argn, 
It  didn't  affect  the  supercargo, 

who  whistled  and  sat  composing  blank  verse,  having 

discovered  that  Jason  rhymed  most  unheroically  with 

bason : 

"  Neglecting  the  daughter  of  ^son, 
Sat  Jason,  a  bason  his  knees  on " 


"  You  don't  help  a  man  much,  sir,  so  far  as  I 
understand  you,"  grumbled  Billy,  with  a  nervous 
glance  around  the  horizon. 

''  "Well,  then  I'll  prescribe  you  another  way.  No- 
body believes  me  when  I  tell  the  following  story:  but 
'tis  true  nevertheless.     So  listen : 

181 


SIR   JOHN    COi^STANTINE 


Mr.  Fett' s  Stoey  of  the  Inteeeupted  Beteothal 

"  To  the  south  of  the  famous  city  of  Oxford,  be- 
tween it  and  the  town  of  Abingdon,  lies  a  neat  covert 
called  Bagley  Wood:  in  the  which,  on  a  Sunday 
evening  a  bare  two  months  ago,  I  chose  to  wander 
with  my  stage  copy  of  Mr.  Otway's  '  Orphan ' — a 
silly  null  play,  sirs,  if  not  altogether  the  nonsense 
for  which  Abingdon,  two  nights  later,  condemned  it. 
While  I  wandered  amid  the  undergrowth,  conning 
my  part,  my  attention  was  arrested  by  a  female  voice 
on  the  summer  breeze,  most  pitiably  entreating  for 
help.  I  closed  my  book  and  bent  my  steps  in  the 
direction  of  the  outcries.  Judge  of  my  amazement 
when,  parting  the  bushes  in  a  secluded  glade,  I  came 
upon  a  distressed  but  not  imcomely  maiden,  buried 
up  to  her  neck  in  earth  beneath  the  spreading  boughs 
of  a  beech.  To  exhume  and  release  her  cost  me,  un- 
provided as  I  was  with  any  tool  for  the  purpose,  no 
little  labour.  At  length,  however,  I  disengaged  her 
and  was  rewarded  with  her  story;  which  ran,  that 
a  faithless  swain,  having  decoyed  her  into  the  re- 
cesses of  the  wood,  had  pushed  her  into  a  pit  pre- 
pared by  him ;  and  that  but  for  the  double  accident 
of  having  miscalculated  her  inches  and  being  startled 
by  my  recitations  of  Otway  into  a  terror  that  the 

182 


THE   DISCOURSE   OX   THE    GAUNTLET 

whole  countryside  was  after  him  with  hue  and  cry, 
he  had  undoubtedly  consummated  his  fell  design. 
After  cautioning  her  to  be  more  careful  in  future 
I  parted  from  the  damsel  (who  to  the  last  protested 
her  gratitude)  and  walked  homeward  to  my  lodg- 
ings, on  the  way  reflecting  how  frail  a  thing  is 
woman  when  matched  against  man  the  libertine." 

Billy  Priske's  eyes  had  grown  round  in  his  head. 
Mr.  Badcock,  after  sitting  in  thought  for  a  full  min- 
ute, observed  that  the  incident  was  peculiar  in  many 
respects. 

"  Is  that  the  end  of  the  yarn?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  never  met  the  lady  again,"  confessed  Mr.  Fett. 
"  As  for  the  story,"  he  added  with  a  sigh,  "  I  am 
accustomed  to  have  it  disbelieved.  Yet  let  me  tell 
you  this.  On  my  return  I  related  it  to  the  company, 
who  received  it  with  various  degrees  of  incredulity 
— all  but  a  youthful  stroller  who  had  joined  us  at 
Banbury  and  earned  promotion,  on  the  strength  of 
his  looks,  from  '  walking  gentleman '  to  what  is 
known  in  the  profession  as  '  first  lover.'  On  the 
strength  of  this,  again,  he  had  somewhat  hastily  as- 
pired to  the  hand  of  our  leading  tragedy  lady — a 
mature  person,  who  knew  her  own  mind.  My  nar- 
rative seemed  to  dispel  the  atmosphere  of  gloom 
which  had  hung  about  him  for  some  days;  and  the 
next  morning,  having  promised  to  accompany  his  be- 

183 


SIR    JOHN    COXSTANTINE 

frothed  on  a  stroll  up  the  river-bank^  he  left  the  inn 
with  a  light,  almost  jaunty,  tread.  From  the  bal- 
cony I  watched  them  out  of  sight.  By  and  by,  how- 
ever, I  spied  a  figure  returning  alone  by  the  towpath ; 
and,  concealing  myself,  heard  yoimg  Romeo  in  the 
courtyard  carelessly  demanding  of  the  ostler  the  loan 
of  a  spade.  From  behind  my  curtain  I  watched  him 
as  again  he  made  his  way  up  the  shore  with  the 
implement  tucked  under  his  arm.  I  waited  in  a 
terrible  suspense.  Each  minute  seemed  an  hour.  A 
thunderstorm  happening  to  break  over  the  river  at 
this  juncture  (as  such  things  do),  the  scene  lacked 
no  appropriate  accessory  of  menace.  At  length,  be- 
tween two  flashes  of  lightning,  I  perceived  in  the 
distance  my  two  turtles  returning,  and  gave  voice 
to  my  relief.  They  were  walking  side  by  side,  but 
no  longer  arm-in-arm.  Young  Romeo  hung  his  head 
dejectedly :  and  on  a  closer  view  the  lady's  garments 
not  only  dripped  with  the  storm  but  showed  traces 
of  earth  to  the  waist.  The  rest  they  kept  to  them- 
selves. I  say  no  more,  save  that  after  the  evening's 
performance  (of  '  All  for  Love  ')  young  Romeo  came 
to  me  and  announced  that  his  betrothal  was  at  an 
end.  They  had  discovered  (as  he  put  it)  some  in- 
compatibility of  temper." 

My  father  and  Nat  Fiennes  had   finished  their 
game  and  come  forward  in  time  to  hear  the  conclu- 

184 


THE   DISCOURSE   ON   THE    GAUNTLET 

sion  of  this  amazing  narrative.  Billy  Priske  stared 
at  his  master  in  beAvilderment. 

"  A  spade !  "  growled  Billy,  mopping  his  brow  and 
letting  his  gaze  travel  aroimd  the  horizon  again  be- 
fore settling,  in  dull  wrath,  on  Mr.  Fett.  "  What's 
the  use,  sir,  of  makin'  a  man  feel  like  a  villain  and 
puttin'  thoughts  into  his  head  without  means  to 
fulfil'em?" 

"  Sit  you  quiet,"  said  my  father,  "  while  I  try 
to  drive  Mr.  Fett's  story  out  of  your  head  wdth  an 
honester  one." 

"  About  a  spade,  master  ?  " 

"  There  is  a  spade  in  the  story.  In  the  year  1416 
a  certain  Portuguese  sea-captain,  Gonsalvez  Zarco  by 
name,  and  servant  of  the  famous  Henry  of  Portugal, 
was  cruising  homeward  in  a  leaky  caravel  from  a 
baffled  voyage  in  search  of  the  Fortunate  Islands. 
He  had  run  into  a  fog  off  Cape  Blanco  in  Africa, 
and  had  been  pushing  through  it  for  two  days  when 
the  weather  lifted  and  the  look-out  spied  a  boat, 
empty  but  for  one  man,  drifting  a  mile  and  more 
to  leeward.  Zarco  ran  down  for  the  boat,  and  the 
man,  being  brought  aboard,  was  found  to  be  an 
escaped  Moorish  prisoner  on  his  way  back  to  Spain. 
He  gave  his  name  as  Morales,  and  said  that  he  had 
sometime  been  a  pilot  of  Seville,  but,  being  captured 
by  the  Moors  off  Algeciras,  had  sjDent  close  on  twenty 

185 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

years  in  servitude  to  them.  In  the  end  he  and  six 
other  Christians  had  escaped  in  a  boat  of  their  own 
making,  but  with  few  victuals.  When  these  were 
consumed  his  companions  had  perished  one  by  one, 
horribly,  and  he  had  been  sailing  without  hope,  not 
caring  whither,  for  a  day  and  a  night  before  his 
rescue  come. 

"  Now  this  much  he  told  them  painfully,  being 
faint  with  fasting  and  light-headed:  but,  afterwards 
falling  into  a  delirium,  he  let  slip  certain  words  that 
caused  Captain  Zarco  to  bestow  him  in  a  cabin  apart 
and  keep  watch  over  him  until  the  ship  reached 
Lagos,  whence  he  conveyed  him  secretly  and  by 
night  to  Prince  Henry,  who  dwelt  at  that  time  in 
an  arsenal  of  his  own  building,  on  the  headland  of 
Sagres.  There  Prince  Henry  questioned  him,  and 
the  old  man,  taken  by  surprise,  told  them  a  story  both 
true  and  wonderful. 

"  In  his  captivity  he  had  made  friends  with  a 
fellow-prisoner,  an  Englishman  named  Prince  or 
Prance  (since  dead,  after  no  less  than  thirty  years  of 
servitude),  who  had  fallen  among  the  Moors  in  the 
manner  following.  In  his  youth  he  had  been  a  sea- 
man, and  one  day  in  the  year  1370  he  was  stand- 
ing idle  on  Bristol  Quay  when  a  young  squire 
accosted  him  and  offered  to  hire  him  for  a  voyage  to 
France,  naming  a  good  wage  and  pressing  no  small 

186 


THE   DISCOURSE   ON   THE    GAUNTLET 

share  of  it  upon  him  as  earnest-money.  The  ship 
(he  said,  naming  her)  lay  below  at  Avonmouth  and 
would  sail  that  same  night.  Prince  knew  the  ship 
and  her  master,  and  judged  from  the  young  squire's 
apparel  and  bearing  that  here  was  one  of  those  vol- 
untary expeditions  by  which  our  young  nobles  made 
it  a  fashion  to  seek  fame  at  the  expense  of  our  ene- 
mies the  French ;  a  venture  dangerous  indeed  but 
carrying  a  hopeful  chance  of  high  profits.  He 
agreed,  therefore,  and  joined  the  ship  a  little  after 
nightfall.  Towards  midnight  arrived  a  boat  with 
our  young  squire  and  one  companion,  a  lady  of  ex- 
treme beauty,  who  had  no  sooner  climbed  the  ship's 
side  than  the  master  cut  the  anchor-cable  and  stood 
out  for  sea. 

"  The  names  of  these  pretty  runaways  were  Rob- 
ert Machin  and  Anne  d'Arfet,  wife  of  a  sour  mer- 
chant of  Bristol;  and  all  their  care  was  to  flee 
together  and  lose  all  the  world  for  love.  But  they 
never  reached  France;  for,  having  run  prosperously 
down  Channel  and  across  from  the  Land's  End  until 
they  sighted  Ushant,  they  met  a  north-easterly  gale 
which  blew  them  off  the  coast;  a  gale  so  blind  and 
terrible  and  persistent  that  for  twelve  days  they  ran 
before  it,  in  peril  of  death.  On  the  thirteenth  day 
they  sighted  an  island,  where,  having  found  (as  they 
thought)  good  anchorage,  they  brought  the  ship  to, 

187 


SIR    JOH^^    COXSTAXTIXE 

and  rowed  the  lady  ashore  through  the  surf.  Be- 
tween suffering  and  terror  she  was  already  close 
upon  death. 

"  Xow  this  man  Prince  said  that  though  the  sea- 
men laid  their  peril  at  her  door,  holding  the  mon- 
strous storm  to  be  a  judgment  direct  from  Heaven 
upon  her  sin,  yet  not  one  of  them,  considering  her 
childish  beauty,  had  the  heart  to  throw  her  an  ill  word 
or  so  much  as  an  accusing  look ;  but,  having  borne  her 
ashore,  they  built  a  tabernacle  of  boughs  and  roofed 
it  wuth  a  spare  sail  for  her  and  for  her  lover,  who 
watched  beside  her  till  she  died. 

"  On  the  morning  of  her  death  the  seamen,  who 
slept  on  the  beach  at  a  little  distance,  were  awakened 
by  a  terrible  cry:  whereat  gazing  seaward — as  a  sea- 
man's first  impulse  is — they  missed  all  sight  of  their 
ship.  Either  the  gale,  reviving,  had  parted  her 
moorings  and  blown  her  out  to  sea,  or  else  the  two 
or  three  left  on  board  had  treacherously  slipped  her 
cable.    At  all  events,  no  more  was  ever  heard  of  her. 

"  The  seamen  supposed  then  that  Master  Machin 
had  called  out  for  the  loss  of  the  ship.  But,  coming 
to  him,  they  found  him  staring  at  the  poor  corpse  of 
his  lady;  and  when  they  pointed  to  sea  he  appeared 
to  mark  not  their  meaning.  Only  he  said  many 
times,  '  Is  she  gone  ?  Is  she  gone  ? '  Whether  he 
spoke  of  the  ship  or  of  the  lady  they  could  not  tell. 

188 


THE   DISCOURSE   OX   THE    GAUNTLET 

Thereafter  he  said  nothing,  but  turned  his  face  away 
from  all  offers  of  food,  and  on  the  fifth  day  the  sea- 
men buried  him  beside  his  mistress  and  set  up  a 
wooden  cross  at  their  heads. 

"After  this  (said  Prince),  finding  no  trace  of 
habitation  on  the  island,  and  being  convinced  that 
no  ship  ever  passed  within  sight  of  it,  the  seamen 
caught  and  killed  four  of  the  sheep  which  ran  wild 
upon  the  cliffs,  and  with  the  flesh  of  them  provisioned 
the  boat  in  which  they  had  come  ashore,  and  took 
their  leave.  For  eleven  days  they  steered  as  nearly 
due  east  as  they  could — that  being  the  quarter  in 
which  they  supposed  the  mainland  to  lie,  until  a  gale 
overtook  them,  and,  drowning  the  rest,  cast  four  of 
them  alive  on  the  coast  near  ]\Iogador,  where  the 
Moors  fell  on  them  and  sold  them  into  slavery,  to 
masters  living  wide  apart.  Yet,  however  the  others 
perished,  in  the  mouth  of  this  one  man  the  story  lived 
and  came  after  many  days  to  ears  that  understood  it. 

"  For  Prince  Henry,  hearing  the  pilot's  tale,  be- 
lieved verily  that  this  must  be  the  island  for  which 
his  sea-captains  had  been  searching,  and  in  1420  sent 
Zarco  forth  again  to  seek  it,  with  the  old  man  on 
board.  They  reached  Porto  Santo,  where  they  heard 
of  a  dark  line  visible  in  all  clear  weather  on  the 
southern  horizon,  and,  sailing  for  it  through  the  fogs, 
came  to  a  marshy  cape,  and  beyond  this  cape  to  high 

189 


SIR    JOHN    COXSTAXTIXE 

wooded  land  which  Morales  recognised  at  once  from 
his  fellow-prisoner's  description.  Yes,  and,  bring- 
ing them  to  shore,  he  led  them,  unerring,  to  the 
wooden  cross  above  the  beach ;  and  there,  over  the 
grave  of  these  lovers,  Zarco  took  seizin  of  the  island 
in  the  name  of  King  John  of  Portugal,  Prince 
Henry,  and  the  Order  of  Christ. 

"  From  this,"  my  father  concluded,  "  we  may 
learn,  first,  that  human  passion,  of  all  things  the 
most  transient,  may  be  stronger  and  more  enduring 
than  death;  of  all  things  the  unruliest  and  most  de- 
serving to  be  chastened,  it  may  rise  naked  from  the 
scourge  to  claim  the  homage  of  all  men;  nay,  that 
this  mire  in  which  the  multitude  wallows  may  on  an 
instant  lift  up  a  brow  of  snow  and  challenge  the 
Divinity  Himself,  saying,  '  We  are  of  one  essence. 
Shall  not  I  too  work  miracles  ? '     Secondly " 

"  Your  pardon,  master,"  put  in  Billy,  "  but  in  all 
the  fine  speeches  about  Love  and  War  and  suchlike 
that  I've  heard  you  read  out  of  books  afore  now,  I 
could  never  make  out  what  use  they  be  to  common 
fellows  like  myself.  Say  'tis  a  battle:  you  start  us 
off  with  a  shout,  which  again  starts  off  our  betters 
a-knocking  together  other  folks'  heads  and  their  own : 
but  afterwards,  when  I'm  waiting  and  wondering 
what  became  of  Billy  Priske,  all  the  upshot  is  that 
some  thousand  were  slaughtered  and  maybe  enough 

190 


THE   DISCOURSE   01^  THE    GAUNTLET 

to  set  some  river  running  with  blood.  Likewise  with 
these  seamen^  that  never  ran  off  with  their  neigh- 
bours' wives,  but  behaved  pretty  creditable  under  the 
circumstances,  which  didn't  prevent  their  being  spilt 
out  of  boats  and  eaten  bv  fishes  or  cast  ashore  and 
barbecued  by  heathen  Turks — a  pretty  thing  this 
Love  did  for  them,  I  sav.  And  so  to  come  to 
my  own  case,  which  is  where  this  talk  started,  I 
desire  with  all  respect,  master,  that  you  will  first 
ease  my  mind  of  this  question — be  I  in  love,  or 
hain't  I?" 

''  Surely,  man,  you  must  know  that  ?  " 

Billy  shook  his  head.  "  I've  what  you  might  call 
a  feeling  t'wards  the  woman:  and  yet  not  rightly 
what  you  might  call  a  feeling,  nor  yet  azactly,  as  you 
might  say,  t'wards  her.  And  it  can't  be  so  strong 
as  I  reckoned,  for  when  she  spoke  the  word  '  mar- 
riage '  you  might  ha'  knocked  me  down  with  a 
straw." 

"Eh?"  put  in  Mr.  Fett,  "was  she  the  first  to 
mention  it  ? " 

"  Me  bein'  a  trifle  absent-minded,  maybe,  on  that 
point,"  explained  Billy.  His  gaze  at  this  point,  hap- 
pening to  wander  to  the  wheel,  encountered  Captain 
Jo  Pomery's;  and  Captain  Jo,  who  had  been  listen- 
ing, nodded  encouragement. 

"  Speakin'  as  a  seafarin'  man  and  the  husband  o' 

191 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

three  at  one  time  and  another,"  said  he,  "  they  al- 
ways do  so." 

"  My  Artemisia,"  said  Mr.  Badeock,  "  was  no  ex- 
ception; though  a  powerful  woman  and  well  able  to 
look  after  herself." 

"  'Tis  their  privilege,"  agreed  Captain  Pomery. 
"  You  must  allow  'em  a  few." 

"  But  contrariwise,"  Billy  resumed,  "  it  must  be 
stronger  than  I  reckoned,  for  here  I  be  safe,  as  you 
may  say,  and  here  I  should  be  grateful;  whereas  I 
hain't,  and,  what's  more,  my  appetite's  failin'.  Be 
you  goin'  to  give  me  something  for  it  ?  "  he  asked, 
as  Mr.  Badeock  dived  a  hand  suddenly  into  a  tail 
pocket  and  drew  forth  what  at  first  appeared  to  be 
the  neck  of  a  bottle,  but  to  closer  view  revealed  itself 
as  the  upper  half  of  a  flute.  A  second  dive  pro- 
duced the  remainder. 

"  Good  Lord !  Badeock  has  another  accomplish- 
ment! "  ejaculated  Mr.  Fett. 

"  The  gift  of  music,"  said  Mr.  Badeock,  screwing 
the  two  portions  of  the  instrument  together,  "  is  born 
in  some.  The  great  Batch — John  Sebastian  Batch, 
gentlemen — as  I  am  credibly  informed,  composed 
a  fugue  in  his  bed  at  the  tender  age  of  four." 

"  He  was  old  enough  to  have  given  his  nurse  warn- 
ing," said  Mr.  Fett. 

"  With  me,"  pursued  Mr.  Badeock  modestly,  "  it 

192 


THE    DISCOURSE   ON   THE    GAUNTLET 

has  been  tlic  result  of  later  and  (I  will  not  conceal 
the  truth,  sirs)  more  assiduous  cultivation.  This  in- 
strument " — he  tapped  it  affectionately — "  came  to 
me  in  the  ordinary  way  of  trade  and  lay  unredeemed 
in  my  shop  for  no  less  than  eight  years;  nor  when 
exposed  for  sale  could  it  tempt  a  purchaser.  '  You 
must  do  something  with  it,'  said  my  Artemisia — an 
excellent  housewife,  gentlemen,  who  wasted  nothing 
if  she  could  help  it.  I  remember  her  giving  me  the 
same  advice  about  an  astrolabe,  and  again  about  a 
sun-dial  corrected  for  the  meridian  of  Bury  St.  Ed- 
mund's. '  My  dear,'  I  answered,  '  there  is  but  one 
thing  to  be  done  with  a  flute,  and  that  is  to  learn  it.' 
In  this  way  I  discovered  what  I  will  go  no  further 
than  to  describe  as  my  Bent." 

Mr.  Badcock  put  the  flute  to  his  lips,  and  blew 
into  it.     A  tune  resulted. 

"  But,"  persisted  Billy  Priske  after  a  dozen  bars 
or  so,  "  the  latest  thing  to  be  mentioned  was  my  ap- 
petite :  and  'tis  wonderful  to  me  how  you  gentlemen 
are  lettin'  the  conversation  stray,  this  afternoon." 

"  The  worst  of  a  flute,"  said  Mr.  Badcock,  with- 
drawing it  from  his  lips  with  obvious  reluctance, 
"  and  the  objection  commonly  urged  by  its  de- 
tractors, is  that  a  man  cannot  blow  upon  it  and  sing 
at  the  same  time." 

"  I   don't   say,"    said    Billy    seriously,    "  as   that 

193 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTAXTIXE 

mayn't  be  a  reas'nable  objection;  only  it  didn't  hap- 
pen to  be  mine," 

'^  You  have  heard  the  tune/'  said  Mr.  Badcock. 
"  Now  for  the  words — 

"  I  attempt  from  love's  sickness  to  fly,  in  vain, 
Since  I  am  myself  my  own  fever  and  pain." 

"  Bravo !  "  my  father  cried.  "  Mr.  Badcock  has 
hit  it.     You  are  in  love,  Billy,  and  beyond  a  doubt." 

"  Be  I  ?  "  said  Billy,  scratching  his  head.  "  Well, 
as  the  saying  is,  many  an  ass  has  entered  Jerusalem." 


194 


CHAPTER  XI 

WE  FALL  IN  WITH  A  SALLEE  ROVER 

We  laid  them  aboard  the  larboard  side — 
With  hey!  with  ho!  for  and  a  nonny  no! 

And  we  threw  them  into  the  sea  so  wide, 
And  alongst  the  Coast  of  Barbary. 

— The  Sailor's  Onely  Delight. 

My  father,  checked  in  the  midst,  or  rather  at  the 
outset,  of  a  panegyric  upon  love,  could  not  rest  until 
he  had  found  an  ear  into  which  to  deliver  it;  hut 
that  same  evening,  after  the  moon  had  risen,  drew 
Nat  aside  on  the  poop,  and  discharged  the  whole 
harangue  upon  him ;  the  result  heing  that  the  dear 
lad,  who  already  fancied  himself  another  Rudel  in 
quest  of  the  Lady  of  Tripoli,  spent  the  next  two 
days  in  composing  these  verses,  the  only  ones  (to  my 
knowledge)  ever  finished  by  him : 

Nat  Fiennes'  Song  to  the  Undiscovered  Lady 

Thou,  thou,  that  art 
My  port,  my  refuge,  and  my  goal, 

I  have  no  chart, 

No  compass  but  a  heart 
Trembling  t 'wards  thee  and  to  no  other  pole. 

195 


SIR    JOHN    COXSTANTINE 

My  star!     Adrift 
On  seas  that  well-nigh  overwhelm, 

Still  when  they  lift 

I  strain  towards  the  rift, 
And  steer,  and  hold  my  courage  to  the  helm. 

With  ivory  comb, 
Daylong  thou  dalliest  dreaming  where 

The  rainbow  foam 

Enisles  thy  murmuring  home: 
Home  too  for  me,  though  I  behold  it  ne'er! 

Yet  when  the  bird 
Is  tired,  and  each  little  wave, 

Aloft  is  heard 

A  call,  reminds  thee  gird 
Thy  robe  and  cHmb  to  where  the  summits  rave: 

Yea,  to  the  white 
Lone  sea-mark  shaken  on  the  verge — 

"What  of  the  night?" 

Ah,  climb — ah,  lift  the  light! 
Ah,  lamp  thy  lover  labouring  in  the  surge! 

Fray'd  rope,  burst  sail, 
Drench 'd  wing,  as  moth  towards  the  spark — 

I  fetch,  I  fail, 

Glad  only  that  the  gale 
Breaks  not  my  life  upon  the  brutal  dark. 

Be  it  frost  or  fire. 
Thy  bosom,  I  believed  it  warm: 

I  did  aspire 

For  that,  and  my  desire — 
Burn  thou  or  freeze — fought  thro'  and  beat  the  storm. 

19G 


WE    FALL    IN   WITH   A   SALLEE   ROVER 

Thou,  thou,  that  art 
My  sole  salvation,  fixed,  afar, 

I  have  no  chart, 

No  compass  but  a  heart 
Hungry  for  thee  and  for  no  other  star. 

"  Humph !  "  said  I,  by  way  of  criticism,  when 
these  verses  were  shown  to  me.  "  Where  be  the 
mackerel  lines,  Captain  Jo  ?  There's  too  much  love- 
talk  aboard  this  ship  of  yours." 

"  Mackerel  ?  "  said  Captain  Jo.  "  Why,  where's 
your  bait  ?  " 

"  You  shall  lend  me  an  inch  off  your  pipe-stem," 
said  I,  and,  to  tease  Nat,  began  to  hum  the  senseless 
old  song: 

She  has  ta'en  a  siller  wand 

An'  gi'en  strokes  three, 
An'  chang'd  my  sister  Masery 

To  a  mack'rel  of  the  sea. 
And  every  Saturday  at  noon 

The  mack'rel  comes  to  me, 
An'  she  takes  my  laily  head 

An'  lays  it  on  her  knee. 
An'  kames  it  wi'  a  kame  o'  pearl. 

An'  washes  it  i'  the  sea 

"  Mackerel  ?  "  said  Captain  Pomery.  "  If  ye 
found  one  fool  enough  to  take  hold  at  the  rate  we're 
sailing,  ye'd  pull  his  head  off." 

"  Why,  then,  he  would  be  off  his  head,"  answered 

197 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

I :  "  and  there  are  plenty  here  to  make  him  feel  at 
home." 

In  truth  I  was  nettled ;  jealous,  as  a  lad  in  his 
first  friendship  is  quick  to  be.  Were  not  Nat  and 
I  of  one  age  ?  Then  why  should  he  be  leaving 
thoughts  we  might  share,  to  think  of  woman  ?  I  had 
chafed  at  Oxford  against  his  precocious  entangle- 
ments. Here  on  shipboard  his  propensity  was  past 
a  joke ;  with  no  goose  in  sight  to  mistake  for  a  swan, 
he  must  needs  conjure  up  an  imaginary  princess  for 
his  devotion.  AVhat  irritated  most  of  all  was  his 
assuming,  because  I  had  not  arrived  at  his  folly,  the 
right  to  treat  me  as  a  child. 

South  and  across  the  Bay  of  Biscay  the  weather 
gave  us  a  halcyon  passage ;  the  wind  falling  lighter 
and  lighter  until,  within  ten  leagues  of  Gibraltar, 
we  ran  into  a  flat  calm,  and  Captain  Pomery's  face 
began  to  show  his  vexation. 

The  vexation  I  could  understand — for  your  sea- 
man naturally  hates  calm  weather — but  scarcely  the 
degree  of  it  in  a  man  temperamentally  so  placid. 
Hitherto  he  had  taken  delight  in  the  strains  of  Mr. 
Badcock's  flute.  Suddenly,  and  almost  pettishly,  he 
laid  an  embargo  on  that  instrument,  and  moreover 
sent  word  down  to  the  hold,  and  commanded  old 
Worthy\'ale  to  desist  from  hammering  on  the  bal- 
last.   All  noise,  in  fact,  appeared  to  irritate  him. 

198 


WE    FALL   IN    WITH   A   SALLEE   ROVER 

Mr.  Badcock  pocketed  his  flute  in  some  dudgeon, 
and  for  occupation  fell  to  drinking  with  Mr.  Fett; 
whose  potations,  if  they  did  not  sensibly  lighten  the 
ship,  heightened,  at  least,  her  semblance  of  buoy- 
ancy with  a  deck-cargo  of  empty  bottles.  My  father 
put  no  restraint  upon  these  topers. 

"  Drink,  gentlemen,"  said  he ;  "  drink  by  all 
means  so  long  as  it  amuses  you.  I  had  far  rather 
you  exceeded  than  that  I  should  appear  inhos- 
pitable." 

"  Magnifshent  old  man,"  Mr.  Fett  hiccupped  to 
me  confidentially,  "  an  magnifshent  liquor.  As  the 
song  shays — I  beg  your  pardon,  the  shong  says — 
able  'make  a  cat  speak  an'  man  dumb — 

"  Like  'n  old  courtier  of  the  queen's 
An'  the  queen's  old  courtier — 

Chorus,  Mr.  Bawcock,  if  you  please,  an',  by  the  way, 
won't  mind  my  calling  you  Bawcock,  will  you  ?  Good 
Shakespearean  word,  bawcock :  euphonious,  too — 

"  Accomplisht  eke  to  flute  it  and  to  sing, 
Euphonious  Bawcock  bids  the  welkin  ring." 

"  If,"  said  Mr.  Badcock  in  an  injured  tone  and 

with  a  dark  glance  aft  at  Captain  Pomery,  "  if  a  man 

don't  like  my  playing,  he  has  only  to  say  so.     I  don't 

press  it  on  any  one.     From  all  I  ever  heard,  art  is 

a  matter  of  taste.     But  I  don't  understand  a  man's 

199 


SIR    JOHX    CONSTANTINE 

being  suddenly  upset  by  a  tune  that,  only  yesterday, 
he  couldn't  hear  often  enough." 

Out  of  the  little  logic  I  had  picked  up  at  Oxford 
I  tried  to  explain  to  him  the  process  known  as  sorites ; 
and  suggested  that  Captain  Pomery,  while  tolerant  of 
/  attempt  from  Love's  sickness  to  fly  up  to  the  hun- 
dredth repetition,  might  conceivably  show  signs  of 
tiring  at  the  hundred-and-first.  Yet  in  my  heart  I 
mistrusted  my  own  judgment,  and  my  wonder  at  the 
skipper's  conduct  increased  when,  the  next  dawn 
finding  us  still  becalmed,  but  with  the  added  annoy- 
ance of  a  fog  that  almost  hid  the  bowsprit's  end,  his 
demeanour  swung  back  to  joviality.  I  taxed  him 
with  this,  in  my  father's  hearing. 

"  I  make  less  account  of  fogs  than  most  men,"  he 
answered.  "  I  can  smell  land ;  which  is  a  gift  and 
born  with  me.  But  this  is  no  weather  to  be  caught 
in  anywhere  near  the  Sallee  coast;  and  if  we're 
to  lose  the  wind,  let's  have  a  good  fog  to  hide  us, 
I  say." 

He  went  on  to  assure  us  that  the  seas  hereabouts 
were  infested  with  Moorish  pirates,  and  to  draw  some 
dismal  pictures  of  what  might  happen  if  we  fell  in 
with  a  prowling  Sallateen. 

With  all  his  fears  he  kept  his  reckoning  admirably, 
and  we  half-sailed,  half-drifted  through  the  Strait, 
and  so  near  to  the  Hock  of  Gibraltar  that,  passing 

200 


WE  FALL  IN  WITH  A  SALLEE  ROVER 

within  range  of  it  at  the  hour  of  reveille,  we  heard 
the  British  bugles  sounding  to  us  like  ghosts  through 
the  fog.  Captain  Pomerj  here  was  in  two  minds 
about  laying-to  and  waiting  for  a  breeze ;  but  a  light 
slant  of  wind  encouraged  him  to  carry  the  Gauntlet 
through.  It  bore  us  between  the  invisible,  narrow 
Strait,  and  for  a  score  of  sea-miles  beyond ;  then,  as 
casually  as  it  had  helped,  it  deserted  us. 

Dav  broke  and  discovered  us  with  the  Moorish 
coast  low  on  our  starboard  horizon.  To  Mr.  Fett 
and  Mr.  Badcock  this  meant  nothing,  and  my  father 
might  have  left  them  to  their  ignorance  had  he  not 
in  the  course  of  the  forenoon  caught  them  engaged 
upon  a  silly  piece  of  mischief,  which  was,  to  scribble 
on  small  sheets  of  paper  various  affecting  narratives 
— as  that  the  Gauntlet  was  sinking,  or  desperately 
attacked  by  pirates,  in  such  and  such  a  latitude  and 
longitude — insert  them  in  empty  bottles,  and  com- 
mit them  to  the  chances  of  the  deep;  the  object  (as 
Mr.  Fett  explained  it)  being  to  throw  Billy  Priske's 
sweetheart  off  the  scent.  For  two  days  past  he  had 
been  slyly  working  upon  Billy's  fears,  and  was  re- 
lating to  him  how,  with  two  words,  a  ^Moorish  lady 
had  followed  Gilbert  a  Becket  from  Palestine  to  Lon- 
don, and  found  him  there — when  my  father,  at- 
tracted by  the  smell  of  pitch,  strolled  forward  and 
caught  Mr.  Badcock  in  the  act  of  sealing  the  bottles 

201 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

from  a  ladle  which  stood  heating  over  a  lamp.  In 
the  next  five  minutes  the  pair  learnt  that  my  father 
could  lose  his  temper,  and  the  lesson  visibly  scared 
them. 

"  Your  pardon,  sir,"  twittered  Mr.  Fett.  "  'Twas 
a  foolish  joke,  I  confess." 

"  I  may  lend  some  point  to  it,"  answered  my 
father  grimly,  "  by  telling  you  what  I  had  a  mind  to 
concea^.,  that  vou  stand  at  this  moment  at  no  far 
remove  from  one  of  the  worst  dangers  you  have 
playfully  invented.  The  wind  has  dropped  again,  as 
you  perceive.  Along  the  coast  yonder  live  the  worst 
pirates  in  the  world,  and  with  a  glass  we  may  all 
but  discern  the  dreadful  barracks  in  which  so  many 
hundreds  of  our  fellow-Christians  lie  at  this  moment, 
languishing.  Please  God  we  are  only  visible  from 
the  hill-country,  and  the  coast  tribes  may  miss  to 
descry  us !  For  our  goal  lies  north  and  east,  and 
to  fail  of  it  would  break  my  heart.  But  'twere  a 
high  enterprise  for  England  some  day  to  smoke  out 
these  robbers,  and  I  know  none  to  which  a  Christian 
man  could  more  worthily  engage  himself." 

Mr.  Badcock  shivered.  "  In  our  parish  church," 
said  he,  "  we  used  to  take  up  a  collection  for  these 
poor  prisoners  every  Septuagesima.  Many  a  sermon 
have  I  listened  to  and  wondered  at  their  sufferings, 
yet  idly,  as  no  doubt  Axminster  folk  would  wonder 

202 


WE    FALL    IX    WITH   A   SALLEE   KOVER 

at  this  plight  of  mine,  could  they  hear  of  it  at  this 
moment." 

My  father,  his  wrath  being  3'et  recent,  did  not 
spare  presently  to  paint  our  peril  of  capture  and  the 
possible  consequences  in  lively  colours ;  but,  observ- 
ing that  Nat  and  I  had  drawn  near  to  listen,  he  put 
on  a  cheerful Icr  tone. 

"  He  will  turn  all  this  to  the  note  of  love,  and 
within  five  minutes,"  I  whispered  to  Xat,  "  or  I'll 
forfeit  five  sliillings." 

My  father  could  not  have  heard  me;  yet  pat  on 
the  moment  he  rose  to  the  bet  as  a  fish  to  a  fly. 

"  Yet  love,"  said  he,  "  love,  the  star  of  our  quest, 
has  shone  before  now  into  these  dungeons,  these  dark 
ways  of  blood,  these  black  and  cruel  hearts,  and 
divinely  illuminated  them ;  as  a  score  of  histories 
bear  witness,  and  among  them  one  you  shall  hear. 

The  Story  of  the  Rover  and  the  Lord  Provost's 

Daughter 

"  In  Edinburgh,  in  the  Canongate,  there  stands  a 
tenement  known  as  Morocco  Land,  over  the  second 
floor  of  which  leans  forward,  like  a  figurehead,  the 
wooden  statue  of  a  Moor,  black  and  naked,  with  a 
turban  and  a  string  of  beads ;  and  concerning  this 
statue  the  following  tale  is  told. 

203 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

"  In  the  reign  of  King  James  or  King  Charles  I. 
— I  cannot  remember  which — there  happened  a  riot 
in  Edinburgh.  Of  its  cause  I  am  uncertain,  but  in 
the  progress  of  it  the  mob,  headed  by  a  young  man 
named  Andrew  Gray,  set  fire  to  the  Lord  Provost's 
house.  The  riot  having  been  quelled,  its  ringleaders 
were  eeized  and  cast  into  the  Tolbooth,  and  among 
them  this  Andrew  Gray,  who  in  due  course  was 
brought  to  judgment,  and  in  spite  of  much  private 
influence  (for  he  came  of  good  family)  condemned 
to  die.  Before  the  day  of  execution,  however,  his 
friends  managed  to  spirit  him  out  of  prison,  whence 
he  fled  the  country;  and  so  escaped  and  in  time  was 
forgotten. 

"  Many  years  after,  at  a  time  when  the  plague  was 
raging  through  Edinburgh,  a  Barbary  corsair  sailed 
boldly  up  the  Firth  of  Forth  and  sent  a  message 
ashore  to  the  Lord  Provost,  demanding  twenty  thou- 
sand pounds'  ransom,  and  on  a  threat,  if  it  were  not 
paid  within  twenty-four  hours,  to  burn  all  the  ship- 
ping in  the  firth  and  along  the  quays.  He  required, 
meanwhile,  a  score  of  hostages  for  payment,  and 
among  them  the  Lord  Provost's  own  son. 

"  The  Lord  Provost  ran  about  like  a  man  de- 
mented ;  since,  to  begin  with,  audacious  as  the  terms 
were,  the  plague  had  spared  him  scarcely  a  hundred 
men  capable  of  resistance.     Moreover,  he  had  no  son, 

204 


WE    FALL    m    WITH   A   SALLEE   ROVER 

but  an  only  daughter,  and  she  was  lying  upstairs  sick 
almost  to  death  with  the  distemper.  So  he  made  an- 
swer, promising  the  ransom,  but  explaining  that  he 
for  his  part  could  send  no  hostage.  To  this  the  Sal- 
lee  captain  replied  politely — that  he  had  some  ex- 
perience of  the  plague,  and  possessed  an  elixir  which 
(he  made  sure)  would  cure  the  maiden  if  the  Lord 
Provost  would  do  him  the  honour  to  receive  a  visit ; 
nay,  that  if  he  failed  to  cure  her,  he  would  remit  the 
city's  ransom. 

"  You  may  guess  with  what  delight  the  father  con- 
sented. The  pirate  came  ashore  in  state,  and  was 
made  welcome.  The  elixir  was  given;  the  damsel 
recovered ;  and  in  due  course  she  married  her  Paynim 
foe,  who  now  revealed  himself  as  the  escaped  pris- 
oner, Andrew  Gray.  He  had  risen  high  in  the  ser- 
vice of  the  Emperor  of  Morocco,  and  had  fitted  out 
his  ship  expressly  to  be  revenged  upon  the  city  which 
had  once  condemned  him  to  death.  The  story  con- 
cludes that  he  settled  down,  and  lived  the  rest  of 
his  life  as  one  of  its  most  reputable  citizens." 

"  But  what  was  the  elixir  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Bad- 
cock. 

"  T'cht !  "  answered  my  father  testily. 

"  I  agree  with  you,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Fett.  "  Mr. 
Badcock's  question  was  a  foolish  one.  Speaking, 
however,  as  a  mere  man  of  business,   and  without 

205 


SIR    JOHX    COXSTAXTIXE 

thought  of  rounding  off  the  story  artistically,  I  am 
curious  to  know  how  they  settled  the  ransom." 

Captain  Pomery  had  taken  in  all  canvas,  to  be 
as  little  conspicuous  as  possible ;  and  all  that  day  we 
lay  becalmed  under  bare  poles.  Xot  content  with 
this,  he  ordered  out  the  boat,  and  the  two  seamen 
(Mike  Halliday  and  Roger  Wearne  their  names 
were)  took  turns  with  Xat  and  me  in  towing  the 
Gauntlet  off  the  coast.  It  was  back-breaking  work 
under  a  broiling  sun,  but  before  evening  we  had  the 
satisfaction  to  lose  all  sight  of  land.  Still  we  per- 
severed and  tugged  until  close  upon  midnight,  when 
the  captain  called  us  aboard,  and  we  tumbled  asleep 
on  deck,  too  weary  even  to  seek  our  hammocks. 

At  daybreak  next  morning  (Sunday)  my  father 
roused  me.  A  light  wind  had  sprung  up  from  the 
shore,  and  with  all  canvas  spread  we  were  slipping 
through  the  water  gaily;  yet  not  so  gaily  (doubted 
Captain  Pomery)  as  a  lateen-sailed  craft  some  four 
or  five  miles  astern  of  us — a  craft  which  he  an- 
nounced to  be  a  Moorish  xebec. 

The  Gauntlet — a  flattish-bottomed  ship — footed  it 
well,  before  the  wind,  but  not  to  compare  with  the 
xebec,  which,  indeed,  was  little  more  than  a  long 
open  boat.  After  an  hour's  chase  she  had  plainly 
reduced  our  lead  by  a  mile  or  more.  Then  for  close 
upon  an  hour  we  seemed  to  have  the  better  of  the 

206 


WE    FALL    TX    WITH    A    SALLEE    ROVEPv 

wind,  and  more  than  held  our  own ;  whereat  the  most 
of  us  openly  rejoiced.  For  reasons  which  he  kept  to 
himself  Captain  Poraery  did  not  share  in  our  elation. 

For  sole  armament  (besides  our  muskets)  the 
ketch  carried,  close  after  of  her  fore-hatchway,  a 
little  obsolete  three-pounder  gim,  long  since  superan- 
nuated out  of  the  Falmouth  packet  service.  In  the 
dim  past,  when  he  had  bid  for  her  at  a  public  auc- 
tion. Captain  Pomery  may  have  designed  to  use  the 
gun  as  a  chaser,  or  perhaps,  even  then,  for  decoration 
only.  She  served  now — and  had  served  for  many  a 
peaceful  passage — but  as  a  peg  for  spare  coils  of 
rope,  and  her  rickety  carriage  as  a  supplement,  now 
and  then,  for  the  bitts,  which  were  somewhat  out  of 
repair.  My  father  casting  about,  as  the  chase  pro- 
gressed, to  put  us  on  better  terms  of  defence,  sug- 
gested unlashing  this  gun  and  running  her  aft  for 
a  stern-chaser 

Captain  Pomery  shook  his  head.  "  Wliere's  the 
ammunition  ?     We  don't  carrv  a  sinsrle  round  shot 

I.  CD 

aboard,  nor  haven't  for  vears.  Besides  which  she'd 
burst  to  a  certainty." 

"  There's  time  enough  to  make  up  a  few  tins  of 
canister,"  argued  my  father.  "  Or  stay — "  He 
smote  his  leg.  "  Didn't  T  tell  you  old  Worthyvale 
would  turn  out  the  usefullest  man  on  board  ?  "  he 
cried  triumphantly, 

207 


SIK    JOH^    COXSTAXTIXE 

"  What's  the  matter  with  Worthj\'ale  ?  " 

"  While  we've  been  talking,  Worthyvale  has  been 
doing.  What  has  he  been  doing  ?  Why,  breaking  up 
the  ballast,  and,  if  I'm  not  mistaken,  into  stones  of 
the  very  size  to  load  this  gun." 

"  Give  Badcock  and  me  some  share  of  credit," 
pleaded  Mr.  Fett.  "  Speaking  less  as  an  expert  than 
from  an  imagination  quickened  by  terror  of  all  mis- 
siles, I  suggest  that  a  hundredweight  or  so  of  empty 
bottles,  nicely  broken  up,  would  lend  a  d d  dis- 
agreeable diversity  to  the  charge " 

"  Xot  a  bad  idea  at  all,"  agreed  my  father. 

"  And  a  certain  sting  to  our  defiance ;  since  I  un- 
derstand these  ruffians  drink  nothing  stronger  than 
water,"  Mr.  Fett  concluded. 

We  spent  the  next  half-hour  in  dragging  the  gun 
aft,  and  fetching  up  from  the  hold  some  twenty  bas- 
ket-loads of  stone.  It  required  a  personal  appeal 
from  my  father  before  old  Worthyvale  would  part 
with  so  much  of  his  treasure. 

During  twenty  minutes  of  this  time,  the  xebec, 
having  picked  up  with  the  stronger  breeze,  had  been 
shortening  her  distance  (as  Captain  Pomery  put  it) 
hand-over-fist.  But  no  sooner  had  we  loaded  the 
little  gun  and  trained  her  ready  for  use,  than  my 
father,  pausing  to  mop  his  brow,  cried  out  that  the 
Moor  was  losing  her  breeze  again.     She  perceptibly 

208 


WE    FALL    IN    WITH   A   SALLEE   ROVER 

slackened  way,  and  before  long  the  water  astern  of 
her  ceased  to  he  ruffled.  An  oily  calm  spreading 
across  the  sea  from  shoreward  overhauled  her  by 
degrees,  overtook,  and  held  her,  with  sails  idle  and 
sheets  tautening  and  sagging  as  she  rolled  on  the 
heave  of  the  swell. 

Captain  Pomery  promptly  checked  our  rejoicing, 
telling  us  this  was  about  the  worst  that  could  hap- 
pen. "  We  shall  carry  this  wind  for  another  ten 
minutes  at  the  most,"  he  assured  us.  "  And  these 
devils  have  boats." 

So  it  proved.  Within  ten  minutes  our  booms  were 
swinging  uselessly;  the  sea  spread  calm  for  miles 
around  us ;  and  we  saw  no  fewer  than  three  boats 
being  lowered  from  the  xebec,  now  about  four  miles 
away. 

"  There  is  nothing  but  to  wait  for  'em,"  said  my 
father,  seating  himself  on  deck  with  his  musket 
across  his  knees.    "  Mr.  Badcock !  " 

"Sir?" 

"  To-day  is  Sunday." 

"  It  is,  sir.  Six  days  shalt  thou  labour  and  do 
all  thou  hast  to  do,  but  on  the  Seventh  day  (if  you'll 
excuse  me)  there's  a  different  kind  of  feeling  in  the 
air.  At  home,  sir,  I  have  observed  that  even  the 
rooks  count  on  it." 

"  You    have    a    fine    voice,    Mr.    Badcock,    and 

209 


SIR    JOHN    COXSTAXTIXE 

have  been,  as  I  gather,  an  attentive  hearer  of  ser- 
mons." 

"  I  may  claim  that  merit,  sir." 

"  If  you  can  remember  one  sufficiently  well  to  re- 
hearse it  to  us,  I  feel  that  it  would  do  us  all  good." 

Mr.  Badcock  coughed.  "  Oh,  sir,"  he  protested, 
"  I  couldn't !  I  reelly  couldn't.  You'll  excuse  me, 
but  I  hold  very  strong  opinions  on  unlicensed  preach- 
ing." He  hesitated ;  then  suddenly  his  brow  cleared. 
"  But  I  can  read  you  one,  sir.  Reading  one  is  al- 
together another  matter." 

"  You  have  a  book  of  sermons  on  board? " 

"  Before  starting,  sir,  happening  to  cast  my  eye 
over  the  bookcase  in  the  bedroom  ...  a  volume  of 
Dr.  South's,  sir,  if  you'll  excuse  my  liberty  in  bor- 
rowing it." 

He  ran  and  fetched  the  volume,  while  we  disposed 
ourselves  to  listen. 

"  Where  shall  I  begin,  sir  ?  " 

"  Wherever  you  please.  The  book  belongs  to  my 
brother  Gervase ;  for  myself  I  have  not  even  a  bow- 
ing acquaintance  with  the  good  Doctor." 

"  The  first  sermon,  sir,  is  upon  Human  Perfec- 
tion." 

"  It  should  have  been  the  last,  surely  ?  " 

"  Not  so,  sir ;  for  it  starts  with  Adam  in  the 
Garden  of  Eden." 

210 


WE    FALL    IN    WITH    A   SALLEE    ROVER 

"  Let  us  hear,  then." 

Mr.  Badcock  cleared  his  throat  and  read: 

The  image  of  God  in  man  is  that  universal  rectitude  of  all 
the  faculties  of  the  soul,  by  which  they  stand  apt  and  dis- 
posed to  their  respective  offices  and  operations. 

"  Hold  a  moment/'  interrupted  my  father,  whose 
habit  of  commenting  aloud  in  church  had  often  dis- 
concerted Mr.  Grylls.  "  Are  you  quite  sure,  Mr. 
Badcock,  that  we  are  not  starting  with  the  Doctor's 
peroration  ?  " 

"  This  is  the  first  page,  sir." 

"  Then  the  Doctor  himself  began  at  the  wrong  end. 
Prosper,  will  you  take  a  look  astern  and  report  me 
how  many  boats  are  coming  ?  " 

"  Three,  sir,"  said  I.  "  The  third  has  just  pushed 
off  from  the  ship." 

"  Thank  you.     Proceed,  Mr.  Badcock." 

And  first  for  its  noblest  faculty,  the  understanding.  It 
was  then  subUme,  clear,  and  aspiring,  and  as  it  were  the  soul's 
upper  region,  lofty  and  serene,  free  from  the  vapours  and  dis- 
turbances of  the  inferior  affections.  .  .  .  Like  the  sun  it 
had  both  light  and  agiUty;  it  knew  no  rest  but  in  motion; 
no  quiet  but  in  activity.  ...  It  did  arbitrate  upon  the  sev- 
eral reports  of  sense,  and  all  the  varieties  of  imagination ;  not 
like  a  drowsy  judge,  only  hearing,  but  also  directing  their 
verdict.  In  sum,  it  was  vegete,  quick,  and  lively;  open  as  the 
day.  untainted  as  the  morning,  full  of  the  innocence  and 
sprightliness  of  youth;  it  gave  the  soul  a  bright  and  a  full 
view  into  all  things. 

211 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTAXTIXE 

"  A  fine  piece  of  prose,"  remarked  Mr.  Fett  as 
Mr.  Badeock  drew  breath. 

"  A  fine  fiddlestick,  sir !  "  quoth  my  father.  "  The 
man  is  talking  largely  on  matters  of  which  he  can 
know  nothing;  and  in  five  minutes  (I  bet  you)  he 
will  come  a  cropper." 

Mr.  Badeock  resumed: 

For  the  understanding  speculative  there  are  some  general 
maxims  and  notions  in  the  mind  of  man,  which  are  the  rules 
of  discourse  and  the  basis  of  all  philosophy. 

"  As,  for  instance,  never  to  beg  the  question," 
snapped  my  father,  who  from  this  point  let  scarce  a 
sentence  pass  without  pishing  and  pshawing. 

Now  it  was  Adam's  happiness  in  the  state  of  innocence  to 
have  these  clear  and  unsulhed.  He  came  into  the  world  a 
philosopher 

("  Instead  of  which  he  went  and  ate  an  apple.") 

He  could  see  consequents  yet  dormant  in  their  principles, 
and  effects  yet  unborn  and  in  the  womb  of  their  causes. 

("'Tis  a  pity,  then,  he  took  not  the  trouble  to 
warn  Eve.") 

His  understanding  could  almost  pierce  to  future  contin- 
gencies. .  .  . 

("Ay,  'almost'     The  fellow  begins  to  scent  mis- 

212 


WE    FALL    IN    WITH    A   SALLEE    ROVER 

chief,  and  thinks  to  set  himself  right  with  a  saving 
clause.     Why  'almost'?") 

his  conjectures  improving  even  to  prophecy,  or  to  certainties 
of  prediction.  Till  his  fall  he  was  ignorant  of  nothing  but 
sin;  or,  at  least,  it  rested  in  the  notion  without  the  smart 
of  the  experiment. 

My  father  stamped  the  butt  of  his  musket  upon 
deck.  "  '  Rested  in  the  notion/  did  it  ?  Xothing  of 
the  sort,  sir !  It  rested  in  the  apple,  which  he  was 
told  not  to  eat ;  but,  nevertheless,  ate.  Born  a  phi- 
losopher, was  he  ?  And  knew  the  effect  of  every 
cause  without  knowing  the  difference  between  good 
and  evil  ?  Why,  man,  'twas  precisely  against  becom- 
ing a  philosopher  that  the  Almighty  took  pains  to 
warn  him !  " 

Mr.  Badcock  hastily  turned  a  page. 

The  image  of  God  was  no  less  resplendent  in  that  which 
we  call  man's  practical  understanding — namely,  that  store- 
house of  the  soul  in  which  are  treasured  up  the  rules  of  action 
and  the  seeds  of  morality.  Now  of  this  sort  are  these 
maxims:  "That  God  is  to  be  worshipped,"  "That  parents 
are  to  be  honoured,"  "That  a  man's  word  is  to  be  kept." 
It  was  the  privilege  of  Adam  innocent  to  have  these  notions 
also  firm  and  untainted 

My  father  flung  up  both  hands.  "  Oh !  So  Adam 
honoured  his  father  and  his  mother  ?  " 

"  Belike,"  suggested  Billy  Priske,  scratching  his 

213 


SIR    JOHN    COXSTAXTINE 

head,  "  Eve  was  expectin',  and  he  invented  it  to  keep 
her  spirits  up," 

"  I  assure  you,  sir,"  Mr.  Badcock  protested  with 
dignity,  '^  Dr.  South  was  the  most  admired  preacher 
of  his  day.  Her  late  Majesty  offered  him  the  Dean- 
ery of  Westminster." 

"  I  could  have  found  a  better  preferment  for  him, 
then ;  that  of  Select  Preacher  to  the  Marines." 

"  If  you  will  have  patience,  sir " 

"  Prosper,  how  near  is  the  leading  boat?  " 
"  A  good  mile  away,  sir,  as  yet." 
"  Then  I  will  have  patience,  Mr.  Badcock." 
"  The  Doctor,  sir,  proceeds  to  make  some  observa- 
tions on  Love,  with  which  you  will  find  yourself  able 
to  agree.     '  Love/  he  says, 

'  is  the  great  instrument  and  engine  of  Nature,  the  bond  and 
cement  of  society ;  the  spring  and  spirit  of  the  universe.  .  .  . 
Now  this  affection  in  the  state  of  innocence  was  happily 
pitched  upon  its  right  object '  " 

"  '  Happily,'  did  you  say  ?  '  Happily  ? '  Why, 
good  Heavens,  sir !  how  many  women  had  Adam  to 
go  gallivanting  after?  Enough,  enough,  gentlemen! 
To  your  guns !  and  in  the  strength  of  a  faith  which 
must  be  strong  indeed,  to  have  survived  its  ex- 
positors !  " 

By  this  time,  through  our  glasses,  we  could  dis- 

214 


WE    FALL    IN    WITH    A   SALLEE    ROVER 

eern  the  faces  of  the  pirates,  who,  crowded  in  the 
bows  and  stern-sheets  of  the  two  leading  boats, 
weighted  them  almost  to  the  water's  edge.  The  third 
had  dropped,  maybe,  half  a  mile  behind  in  the  race, 
but  these  two  came  on,  stroke  for  stroke,  almost  level 
— each  measuring,  at  a  guess,  some  sixteen  feet,  and 
manned  by  eight  rowers.  They  bore  do^vn  straight 
for  our  stern,  until  within  a  hundred  yards ;  then 
separated,  with  the  evident  intention  of  boarding  us 
upon  either  quarter.  At  fifty  yards  the  musketeers  in 
their  bows  opened  fire,  while  my  father  whistled  to 
old  Worthyvale,  who,  during  Dr.  South's  sermon, 
had  been  bringing  the  points  of  half-a-dozen  hand- 
spikes to  a  red  heat  in  the  galley  fire.  The  two 
seamen,  Nat  and  I,  retorted  with  a  volley,  and  Nat 
had  the  satisfaction  to  drop  the  steersman  of  the  boat 
making  towards  our  starboard  quarter.  Unluckily, 
as  it  seemed — for  this  was  the  boat  on  which  my 
father  was  training  our  three-pounder — this  threw 
her  into  momentary  confusion  at  a  range  at  which  he 
would  not  risk  firing,  and  allowed  her  mate  to  run 
in  first  and  close  with  us.  The  confusion,  however, 
lasted  but  ten  seconds  at  the  most;  a  second  steers- 
man stepped  to  the  helm ;  and  the  boat  came  up  with 
a  rush  and  grated  alongside,  less  than  half  a  minute 
behind  her  consort. 

Now  the  Gauntlet,  as  the  reader  will  remember, 

215 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

sailed  in  ballast^  and  therefore  carried  herself  pretty 
high  in  the  water.  Moreover,  our  enemies  ran  in 
and  grappled  ns  just  forward  of  her  quarter,  where 
she  carried  a  movable  panel  in  her  bulwarks,  to  give 
access  to  an  accommodation  ladder.  While  Nat, 
Captain  Pomery,  Mr.  Fett,  and  the  two  seamen  ran 
to  defend  the  other  side,  at  a  nod  from  my  father 
I  thrust  this  panel  open,  leapt  back,  and  Mr.  Bad- 
cock  aiding,  ran  the  little  gim  out,  while  my  father 
depressed  its  muzzle  over  the  boat.  In  our  excess 
of  zeal  we  had  nearly  run  her  overboard;  indeed,  I 
believe  that  overboard  she  would  have  gone  had  not 
my  father  applied  the  red-hot  iron  in  the  nick  of 
time.  The  explosion  that  followed  not  only  flung  us 
staggering  to  right  and  left,  but  lifted  her  on  its 
recoil  clean  out  of  her  rickety  carriage,  and  kicked 
her  half-way  across  the  deck. 

Recovering  myself,  I  gripped  my  musket  and  ran 
to  the  bulwark.  A  heave  of  the  swell  had  lifted  the 
boat  up  to  receive  our  discharge,  which  must  have 
burst  point-blank  upon  her  bottom  boards;  for  I 
leaned  over  in  bare  time  to  see  her  settling  down  in 
a  swirl  beneath  the  feet  of  her  crew,  who,  after  vainly 
grabbing  for  hold  at  the  Gauntlet's  sides,  flung  them- 
selves forward  and  were  swimming  one  and  all  in  a 
sea  already  discoloured  for  some  yards  with  blood. 

My  father  called  to  me  to  fire.     I  heard ;  but  for 

216 


WE   FALL    IN    WITH   A   SALLEE   ROVER 

the  moment  the  dusky  upturned  faces  with  their 
bared  teeth  fascinated  me.  They  looked  up  at  me 
like  faces  of  wild  beasts,  neither  pleading  nor  hating, 
and  in  response  I  merely  stared. 

A  cry  from  the  larboard  bulwarks  aroused  me. 
Three  Moors,  all  naked  to  the  waist,  had  actually 
gained  the  deck.  A  fourth,  with  a  long  knife 
clenched  between  his  teeth,  stood  steadying  himself 
by  the  main  rigging  in  the  act  to  leap;  and  in  the 
act  of  turning  I  saw  Captain  Pomery  chop  at  his 
ankles  with  a  cutlass  and  bring  him  down.  We  made 
a  rush  on  the  others.  One  my  father  clubbed  sense- 
less with  the  butt  of  his  musket ;  one  the  two  seamen 
turned  and  chased  forward  to  the  bows,  where  he 
leapt  overboard ;  the  third,  after  hesitating  an  in- 
stant, retreated,  swung  himself  over  the  bulwark,  and 
dropped  back  into  the  boat. 

But  a  second  cry  from  Mr.  Fett  warned  us  that 
more  were  coming.  Mr.  Fett  had  caught  up  a  sack 
of  stones,  and  was  staggering  with  it  to  discharge  it 
on  our  assailants  when  this  fresh  uprush  brought 
him  to  a  check. 

"  That  fellow  has  more  head  than  I  gave  him 
credit  for,"  panted  my  father.  "  The  gun,  lad ! 
Quick,  the  gun !  " 

We  ran  to  where  the  gun  lay,  and  lifted  it  between 
us,  straining  under  its  weight ;  lurched  with  it  to  the 

217 


SIR   JOHX    CONSTANTINE 

side,  heaved  it  up,  and  sent  it  over  into  the  second 
boat  with  a  crash.  Prompt  on  the  crash  came  a  yell, 
and  we  stared  in  each  other's  faces,  giddy  with  our 
triumph,  as  John  Worthyvale  came  tottering  out  of 
the  cook's  galley  with  two  fresh  red-hot  handspikes. 
The  third  boat  had  come  to  a  halt,  less  than  sev- 
enty yards  away.  A  score  of  bobbing  heads  were 
swimming  for  her,  the  nearer  ones  offering  a  fair 
mark  for  musketry.  We  held  our  fire,  however,  and 
watched  them.  The  boat  took  in  a  dozen  or  so,  and 
then,  being  dangerously  overcrowded,  left  the  rest 
to  their  fate,  and  headed  back  for  the  xebec.  The 
swimmers  clearly  hoped  nothing  from  us.  They  fol- 
lowed the  boat,  some  of  them  for  a  long  while. 
Through  our  glasses  we  saw  them  sink  one  by  one. 


218 


CHAPTER    XII 

HOW    WE    LANDED    ON    THE    ISLAND 

"  Friend  Sancho,"  said  the  Duke, "  the  isle  I  have  promised  you 
can  neither  stir  nor  fly.  And  whether  you  return  to  it  upon  the 
flying  horse,  or  trudge  back  to  it  in  misfortune,  a  pilgrim  from 
house  to  house  and  from  inn  to  inn,  you  will  always  find  your  isle 
just  where  you  left  it,  and  your  islanders  with  the  same  goodwill 
to  welcome  you  as  they  ever  had." — Don  Quixote. 

!N'iGHT  fell,  and  the  xebec  had  made  no  further 
motion  to  attack:  but  yet,  as  the  calm  held,  Captain 
Pomery  continued  gloomy:  nor  did  his  gloom  lift  at 
all  when  the  enemy,  as  soon  as  it  was  thoroughly 
dark,  began  to  burn  flares  and  torches. 

"  That  will  he  a  signal  to  the  shore,"  said  he. 
"  Though,  please  God,  they  are  too  far  for  it  to 
reach." 

The  illumination  served  us  in  one  way.  While  it 
lasted  no  boat  could  push  out  from  the  xebec  without 
our  perceiving  it.  The  fires  lasted  until  after  eight 
bells,  when  the  captain,  believing  that  he  scented  a 
breeze  ahead,  turned  us  out  into  the  boat  again,  to 
tow  the  ketch  towards  it.  For  my  part,  I  tugged  and 
sweated  but  scented  no  breeze.     On  the  contrarv,  the 

219 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

night  seemed  intolerably  close  and  sultry,  as  though 
brooding  a  thunderstorm.  When  the  xebec's  fires 
died  down,  darkness  settled  on  us  like  a  cap.  The 
only  light  came  from  the  water  where  our  oars 
swirled  it  in  pools  of  briming  ^  or  the  tow-rope 
dropped  for  a  moment  and  left  for  another  moment 
a  trail  of  fire. 

ISTeither  Mr.  Fett  nor  Mr.  Badcock  could  pull  an 
oar,  and  old  Worthyvale  had  not  the  strength  for  it. 
The  rest  of  us — all  but  the  captain,  who  steered  and 
kept  what  watch  he  could  astern — took  the  rowing  by 
hourly  relays,  pair  and  pair :  Billy  Priske  and  I,  my 
father  and  Mike  Halliday,  'Na.t  and  Roger  Wearne. 

It  had  come  round  again  to  Billy's  turn  and  mine, 
and  the  hour  was  that  darkest  one  which  promises  the 
near  daylight.  Captain  Pomery,  foreboding  that 
dawn  would  bring  with  it  an  instant  need  of  a  clear 
head,  and  being  by  this  time  overweighted  with 
drowsiness,  had  stepped  below  for  forty  winlvs,  leav- 
ing Wearne  in  charge  of  the  helm.  My  father  and 
ISTat  had  tumbled  into  their  berths.  We  had  left  Mr. 
Badcock  stationed  and  keeping  watch  on  the  larboard 
side,  near  the  waist ;  and  now  and  then,  as  we  tugged, 
I  fancied  I  could  see  the  dim  figures  of  Mr.  Fett 
and  Mike  Halliday  standing  above  us  in  converse 
near  the  bows. 

^  Phosphorescence. 
220 


HOW    WE    LANDED    ON    THE    ISLAND 

Of  imminent  danger — danger  close  at  hand — T 
had  no  fear  at  all,  trusting  that  the  still  night  would 
carry  any  sound  of  mischief,  and  moreover  that  no 
boat  could  approach  without  being  signalled,  a  hun- 
dred yards  off,  by  the  briming  in  the  water.  So 
intolerably  hot  and  breathless  had  the  night  become 
that  I  spoke  to  Billy  to  easy  a  stroke  while  I  pulled 
off  my  shirt.  I  had  drawn  it  over  my  head  and  was 
slipping  my  arms  clear  of  the  sleeves^  when  I  felt, 
or  thought  I  felt,  a  light  waft  of  wind  on  my  right 
cheek — the  first  breath  of  the  gathering  thunder- 
storm— and  turned  up  my  face  towards  it.  At  that 
instant  I  heard  a  short  warning  cry  from  somewhere 
by  the  helm ;  not  a  call  of  alarm,  but  just  such  a 
gasp  as  a  man  will  utter  when  slapped  on  the  shoul- 
der at  unawares  from  behind ;  then  a  patter  of 
naked  feet  rushing  aft ;  then  a  score  of  outcries  blend- 
ing into  one  wild  yell  as  a  whole  boatload  of  Moors 
leapt  and  swarmed  over  the  starboard  bulwark. 

The  tow-rope,  tautening  under  the  last  stroke  of 
our  oars,  had  drawn  the  boat  back  in  its  recoil,  and 
she  now  drifted  close  under  the  Gauntlet's  jibboom, 
which  ran  out  upon  a  very  short  bowsprit.  I  stood 
up,  and,  reaching  for  a  grip  on  the  dolphin-striker, 
swung  myself  on  to  the  bobstay  and  thence  to  the 
cap  of  the  bowsprit,  where  I  sat  astride  for  a  moment 
while  Billy  followed.     We  were  barefoot  both  and 

221 


SIR   JOHN    COA^STAXTIXE 

naked  to  the  waist.  Cautiously  as  a  pair  of  cats 
we  worked  along  the  bowsprit  to  the  foremast-stay, 
at  the  foot  of  which  the  foresail  lay  loose  and  ready 
for  hoisting.  With  a  fold  of  this  I  covered  myself 
and  peered  along  the  pitch-dark  deck. 

No  shot  had  been  fired.  I  could  distinguish  no 
sound  of  struggle,  no  English  voice  in  all  the  din. 
The  ship  seemed  to  be  full  only  of  yellings,  rushings 
to-and-fro  of  feet,  wild  hammerings  upon  timber, 
solid  and  hollow :  and  these  pell-mell  noises  made  the 
darkness,  if  not  darker,  at  least  more  terribly  con- 
fusing. 

The  cries  abated  a  little;  the  noise  of  hammering 
increased,  and  at  the  same  time  grew  persistent  and 
regular,  almost  methodical.  I  had  no  sooner  guessed 
the  meaning  of  this — that  the  ruffians  were  fastening 
down  the  hatches  on  their  prisoners — than  one  of 
them,  at  the  far  end  of  the  ship,  either  fetched  or 
found  a  lantern,  lit  it,  and  stood  it  on  the  after- 
hatch.  Its  rays  glinted  on  the  white  teeth  and  eye- 
balls, and  dusky,  shining  skins  of  a  whole  ring  of 
Moors  gathered  around  the  hatchway  and  nailing  all 
secure. 

Now  for  the  first  time  it  came  into  my  mind  that 
these  rovers  spared  to  kill  while  there  remained  a 
chance  of  taking  their  prisoners  alive ;  that  their  prey 
was  ever  the  crew  before   the  cargo;   and  that,   as 

222 


now    WE    LANDED    OX    THE    ISLAND 

for  the  captured  vessel,  they  usually  scuttled  and 
sank  her  if  she  drew  too  much  water  for  their  shallow 
harbours,  or  if  (like  the  Gauntlet)  she  lacked  the 
speed  for  their  trade.  The  chances  were,  then,  that 
my  father  yet  lived.  Yet  how  could  I,  naked  and 
unarmed,  reach  to  him  or  help  him  ? 

A  sound,  almost  plumb  beneath  me,  recalled  me  to 
more  selfish  alarms.  The  Moors,  whether  they  came 
from  the  xebec  or,  as  we  agreed  later,  more  probably 
from  shore,  in  answer  to  the  xebec's  signal-lights — 
must  have  dropped  down  on  us  without  stroke  of  oars. 
It  may  be  that  for  the  last  half  a  mile  or  more  they 
had  wriggled  their  boat  down  to  the  attack  by  means 
of  an  oar  or  sweep  shipped  in  the  stem-notch:  a  de- 
vice which  would  avoid  all  noise  and,  if  they  came 
slowly,  all  warning  but  the  ripple  of  briming  off  the 
bows.  In  anv  case  thev  had  not  failed  to  observe 
that  the  ketch  was  being  towed ;  and  now,  having 
discharged  her  boarding-party,  their  boat  pushed  for- 
ward to  capture  ours,  which  lay  beneath  us  bumping 
idly  against  the  Gauntlet's  stem.  I  heard  some  half 
a  dozen  of  them  start  to  jabber  as  they  found 
it  empty.  I  divined — I  could  not  see — the  aston- 
ishment in  their  faces  as  they  stared  up  into  the 
darkness. 

Just  then — perhaps  in  response  to  their  cries — a 
comrade  on  deck  ran  forward  to  the  bows  and  leaned 

223 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

over  to  hail  them^  standing  so  close  to  me  that  his 
shoulder  brushed  against  the  fold  of  the  foresail 
within  which  I  cowered.  Like  me,  he  was  bare  to 
the  waist,  but  around  his  loins  he  wore  a  belt  scaled 
with  silver  sequins  that  glimmered  in  the  far  rays 
of  the  lantern,  or  perhaps  in  the  first  weak  light  of 
the  approaching  dawn  .  .  . 

I  know  not  what  madness  took  me  at  the  sight :  but 
in  a  sudden  rage  I  gripped  the  forestay  with  my  left 
hand,  lowered  my  right,  and,  slipping  my  fingers 
under  his  belt,  lifted  him — he  was  a  light  man — 
swung  him  outboard  and  overboard,  and  dropped  him 
into  the  sea. 

I  heard  the  splash  with  which  he  struck  the  water: 
an  ugly  thud  too,  which  told  me  that  some  part  of 
him  had  struck  the  boat's  gunwale.  I  waited — it 
seemed  that  I  waited  many  seconds — expecting  the 
answering  yell  ...  or  a  shot  perhaps.  Still  grip- 
ping the  forestay  with  my  left  hand,  I  bent  forward, 
ready  to  leap  for  deck.  But  even  as  I  bent  thus, 
the  bowsprit  shook  under  me  like  a  whip  and  the 
deck  before  me  opened  in  a  yellow  sheet  of  fire.  The 
whole  ship  seemed  to  burst  asunder  and  shut  again 
as  the  flame  of  the  explosion  went  wavering  up  the 
rigging,  and  I  found  myself  hanging  on  to  the  fore- 
stay  for  dear  life  and  dangling  over  emptiness. 
While  I  dangled  I  heard  in  the  roaring  echoes  an- 

224 


HOW    WE    LANDED    ON    THE    ISLAXL 

other  splash,  and  knew  that  Billy  Priske  had  been 
thrown  from  his  hold;  a  splash,  and  close  upon  it 
a  heavy,  grinding  sound,  a  crash  of  hurst  planks, 
an  outcry  ending  in  a  wail  as  the  lifting  sea  bore 
back  the  Moors'  boat  and  our  own  together  upon  the 
Gauntlet's  stem  and  smashed  them  like  eggshells. 

Then,  as  the  ketch  heaved  and  heaved  again  in  the 
light  of  the  flames  that  ran  up  the  tarry  rigging,  at 
one  rush  the  da^vn  broke ;  with  no  flush  of  sunshine, 
but  with  a  grey,  steel-coloured  ray  that  cut  the  dark- 
ness around  us  like  a  sword.  I  had  managed  to  hoist 
myself  again  astride  the  bowsprit,  and,  clinging  so, 
had  time  in  one  glance  aft  to  take  in  the  scene  of 
ruin.  Yet  in  that  glance  I  saw  it — the  yawning  hole, 
the  unheaved,  jagged  deck-planks,  the  dark  bodies 
hurled  to  right  and  left  into  the  scuppers — by  three 
separate  lights :  by  the  yellow  light  of  the  flames  in 
the  rigging,  by  the  steel-grey  light  of  dawn,  and  by 
a  sudden  white  hot-flash  as  the  lightning  ripped  open 
the  belly  of  heaven  and  let  loose  the  rain.  While  I 
blinked  in  the  glare,  the  mizzen-mast  crashed  over- 
side. I  cannot  tell  whether  the  lightning  struck  and 
split  it  or  whether,  already  blasted  by  the  explosion, 
it  had  stood  uj^right  for  those  few  seconds  until  a 
heave  of  the  swell  snapped  the  charred  stays  and  re- 
leased it.  Nay,  even  the  dead  beat  of  the  rain  may 
have  helped. 

225 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTAKTINE 

In  all  my  life  I  have  never  known  such  rain.  Its 
noise  drowned  the  thunderclap.  It  fell  in  no  drops 
or  threads  of  drops,  but  in  one  solid  flood  as  from 
a  burst  bag.  It  extinguished  the  blaze  in  the  rig- 
ging as  easily  as  you  would  blow  out  a  candle.  It 
beat  me  down  prone  upon  the  bowsprit,  and  with 
such  force  that  I  felt  my  ribs  giving  upon  the  tim- 
ber. It  stunned  me  as  a  bather  is  stunned  who, 
swimming  in  a  pool  beneath  a  waterfall,  ventures  his 
head  into  the  actual  cascade.  It  flooded  the  deck  so 
that  two  minutes  later  when  I  managed  to  lift  my 
head  I  saw  the  bodies  of  two  Moors  washed  down  the 
starboard  scuppers  and  clean  through  a  gap  in  the 
broken  bulwark,  their  brown  legs  lifting  as  they 
toppled  and  shot  over  the  edge. 

JSTo  wind  had  preceded  the  storm.  The  lightning 
had  leapt  out  of  a  still  sky — still,  that  is,  until 
jarred  and  set  vibrating  by  the  explosion.  But  now, 
as  the  downpour  eased,  the  wind  came  on  us  with 
a  howl,  catching  the  ship  so  fierce  a  cuff,  as  she 
rolled  with  mainsail  set  and  no  way  on  her,  that 
she  careened  until  the  sea  ran  in  through  her  lee 
scuppers,  and,  for  all  the  loss  of  her  mizzen-mast, 
came  close  to  being  thrown  on  her  beam  ends. 

While  she  righted  herself — which  she  began  to  do 
but  slowly — I  leapt  for  the  deck  and  ran  aft,  avoid- 
ing the  jagged  splinters,  in  time  to  catch  sight  of 

226 


HOW    WE    LANDED    OX    THE    ISLAND 

my  father's  head  and  shoulders  emerging  through  the 
burst  hatchway. 

"  Hullo !  "  he  sang  out  cheerfully,  lifting  his  voice 
against  the  wind.  "  God  be  praised,  lad !  I  was 
fearing  we  had  lost  you." 

"  But  what  has  happened  ?  "  I  shouted. 
•  Before  he  could  answer  a  voice  hailed  us  over 
stern,  and  we  hurried  aft  to  find  Billy  Priske  drag- 
ging himself  towards  the  ship  by  the  raffle  of  mizzen- 
rigging.  We  hoisted  him  in  over  the  quarter  and 
he  dropped  upon  deck  in  a  sitting  posture. 

"  Is  my  head  on  ?  "  he  asked,  taking  it  in  both 
hands. 

"  You  are  hurt,  Billy  ?  " 

"  Net's  I  know  by,"  answered  Billy,  and  stared 
about  him.     "  What's  become  o'  the  brown  vermin  ?  " 

"  They  seem  to  have  disappeared,"  said  my  father, 
likewise  looking  about  him. 

"  But  what  on  earth  has  happened  ?  "  I  persisted, 
catching  him  by  the  shoulder  and  shouting  in  his 
ear  above  the  roar  of  a  second  sudden  squall. 

"  I — blew  up — the  ship.  Captain  wouldn't  listen 
— academical  fellows,  these  skippers — like  every  one 
else  brought  up  in  a  profession.  So  I  mutinied  and 
blew — her — up.     He's  wounded,  by  the  way." 

"  Tell  you  what,"  yelled  Billy,  staggering  up, 
"  we'll  be  at  the  bottom  in  two  shakes  if  somebody 

227 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

don't  handle  her  in  these  puffs.     Why,  where's  the 
wheel  ?  " 

"  Gone,"  answered  mj  father.  "  Blown  away,  it 
appears." 

"  And  she  don't  right  herself!  " 

"  Ballast  has  shifted.  The  gunpowder  blew  it 
every  way.  Well,  well — poor  old  John  Worthy- 
vale  won't  mourn  it.  I  left  him  below,  past  praying 
for." 

"  Look  here,  Master  Prosper,"  shouted  Billy. 
"  If  the  ship  won't  steer  we  must  get  that  mains'l 
in  or  we're  lost  men.  Run  you  and  cast  off  the 
peak  halliards  while  I  lower.  The  Lord  be  praised, 
here's  Mike,  too,"  he  cried  as  Mike  Halliday  ap- 
peared at  the  hatchway,  nursing  a  badly  burnt  arm. 
"  Glad  to  see  ye,  Mike,  and  wish  I  could  say  the 
same  to  poor  Roger.  The  devils  knifed  poor  Roger, 
I  reckon." 

"  ^o,  they  did  not,"  said  my  father  in  a  lull  of 
the  wind.  "  They  knocked  him  on  the  back  of  the 
head  and  slid  his  body  do\vn  the  after-companion. 
The  noise  of  him  bumping  down  the  ladder  was  what 
first  fetched  me  awake.  He's  a  trifle  dazed  yet,  but 
recovering." 

"  'Tis  a  short  life  he'll  recover  to,  unless  we  stir 
ourselves."  Billy  clutched  my  father's  arm.  "  Look 
'ee,  master!     See  what  they  heathens  be  doin'!  " 

228 


HOW    WE    LANDED    OX    THE    ISLAXD 

"  We  have  scared  'em,"  said  my  father.  "  They 
are  putting  about." 

^^  Something  has  scared  'em,  sure  'nough.  But  if 
'tis  from  us  they  be  in  any  such  hurry  to  get  away, 
wliy  did  they  take  in  a  reef  before  putting  the  helm 
over?  No,  no,  master:  they  know  the  weather  here- 
abouts, and  we  don't.  We've  been  reckonin'  this  for 
a  thunderstorm — a  short  blow  and  soon  over.  They 
know  better,  seemin'  to  me.  Else  why  don't  they 
tack  alongside  and  finish  us  ?  " 

"  I  believe  you  are  right,"  said  my  father,  after  a 
long  look  to  windward. 

"  And  I'm  sure  of  it,"  insisted  Billy.  "  What's 
more,  if  we  can't  right  the  ballast  a  bit  and  get  steer- 
age way  on  her  afore  the  sea  works  up,  she'll  go 
dowTi  under  us  inside  the  next  two  hours.  There's 
the  pumps,  too :  for  if  she  don't  take  in  water  like 
a  basket  I  was  never  born  in  Wendron  parish  an' 
tauglit  blastin'.  Why,  master,  you  must  ha'  blown 
the  very  oakum  out  of  her  seams !  " 

My  father  froAraed  thoughtfully.  "  That's  true," 
said  he :  ''I  have  been  congratulating  myself  too 
soon.  Billy,  in  the  absence  of  Captain  Pomery  I  ap- 
point you  skipper.  You  have  an  ugly  job  to  face, 
but  do  your  best." 

"  Skipper,  be  I  ?  Then  right  you  are  !  "  answered 
Billy  with  a  cheerful  smile.     "  xin'  the  first  order  is 

229 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

for  you  and  Master  Prosper  here  to  tumble  below 
an'  heft  ballast  for  your  lives.  Be  the  two  specimens 
safe  ?  " 

"Eh?"  It  took  my  father  a  second,  maybe, 
to  fit  this  description  to  Messrs.  Badcock  and  Fett. 
"  Ah,  to  be  sure !  Yes,  I  left  them  safe  and  un- 
hurt." 

"  What's  no  good  never  comes  to  harm,"  said  Billy. 
"  Send  'em  on  deck,  then,  and  I'll  put  'em  on  to  the 
pumps." 

We  left  Billy  face  to  face  with  a  job  which  in- 
deed looked  to  be  past  hope.  The  wheel  had  gone, 
and  with  it  the  binnacle ;  and  where  these  had  stood, 
from  the  stump  of  the  broken  mizzen-mast  right  aft 
to  the  taffrail,  there  yawned  a  mighty  hole  fringed 
with  splintered  deck-planking.  The  explosion  had 
gutted  after-hold,  after-cabin,  sail-locker,  and  laid 
all  bare  even  to  the  stern-post.  'Twas  a  marvel  the 
stern  itself  had  not  been  blown  out:  but  as  a  set-off 
against  this  mercy — and  the  most  grievous  of  all, 
though  as  yet  we  had  not  discovered  it — we  had 
lost  our  rudder-head,  and  the  rudder  itself  hung  by 
a  single  pintle. 

"  Xevertheless,"  maintained  my  father  as  we 
toiled  together  upon  the  ballast,  "  I  took  the  only 
course,  and  in  like  circumstances  I  would  venture  it 
again.     The  captain  very  properly  thought  first  of 

230 


HOW    WE    LAXDED    OX    THE    ISLAND 

his  ship:  but  I  preferred  to  think  that  we  were  in 
a  hurry." 

"  How  did  you  contrive  it  ?  "  I  asked,  pausing  to 
ease  my  back  and  listening  for  a  moment  to  the  sound 
of  hatchets  on  deck.  (They  were  cutting  away  the 
tangle  of  the  mizzen-rigging.) 

"  Very  simply,"  said  he.  "  There  must  have  been 
a  dozen  hammering  on  the  after-hatch,  and  I  guessed 
they  would  have  another  dozen  looking  on  and  offer- 
ing advice:  so  I  sent  Halliday  to  fetch  a  keg  of 
powder,  and  poured  about  half  of  it  on  the  top  stair 
of  the  companion.  The  rest  Halliday  took  and 
heaped  on  a  sea-chest  raised  on  a  couple  of  tables 
close  under  the  deck.  We  ran  up  our  trains  on  a 
couple  of  planks  laid  aslant,  and  touched  off  at  a 
signal.  There  were  two  explosions,  but  we  timed 
them  so  prettily  that  I  believe  they  went  off  in  one." 

"  They  did,"  said  I. 

"  My  wits  must  have  been  pretty  clear,  then — at 
the  moment.  Afterwards  (I  don't  mind  confessing 
to  you)  I  lay  for  some  minutes  where  the  explosion 
flung  me.  In  my  hurry  I  had  overdone  the  dose 
somewhat." 

We  had  been  shovelling  for  an  hour  and  more. 
Already  the  ship  began  to  labour  heavily,  and  my 
father  climbed  to  the  deck  to  observe  the  alteration 
in  her  trim.     He  dropped  back  and  picked  up  his 

231 


Sm    JOHX    CONSTANTINE 

shovel  again  in  a  chastened  silence.  In  fact  Deputy- 
captain  Priske  (who  had  just  accomplished  the  tick- 
lish task  of  securing  the  rudder  and  lashing  a  couple 
of  ropes  to  its  broken  head  for  steering-gear)  had 
ordered  him  back  to  work^  using  language  not  un- 
mixed with  objurgation. 

For  all  our  efforts  the  Gauntlet  still  canted  heavily 
to  leeward,  and  as  the  gale  grew  to  its  height  the 
little  canvas  necessary  to  heave-to  came  near  to 
drowning  us.  Towards  midnight  our  plight  grew  so 
desperate  that  Billy,  consulting  no  one,  determined 
to  risk  all — the  unknown  dangers  of  the  coast,  his 
complete  ignorance  of  navigation,  the  risk  of  present- 
ing her  crazy  stern-timbers  to  the  following  seas — 
and  run  for  it.  At  once  we  were  called  up  from  the 
hold  and  set  to  relieve  the  half-dead  workers  at  the 
pumps. 

All  that  night  we  ran  blindly,  and  all  next  day. 
The  gale  had  southerned  and  we  no  longer  feared 
a  lee-shore:  but  for  forty-eight  hours  we  lived  with 
the  present  knowledge  that  the  next  stern-wave  might 
engulf  us  as  its  predecessor  had  just  missed  to  do. 
The  waves,  too,  in  this  inland  sea,  were  not  the  great 
rollers — the  great  kindly  giants — of  our  Atlantic 
gales,  but  shorter  and  more  vicious  in  impact:  and, 
under  Heaven,  our  only  hope  against  them  hung  by 
the  two  ropes  of  Billy's  jury  steering-gear. 

232 


HOW    WE    LANDED    ON    THE    ISLAND 

They  served  us  nobly.  Towards  sunset  of  the  sec- 
ond day,  altliough  to  eye  and  ear  the  gale  had  not 
sensibly  abated^  and  the  sea  ran  by  us  as  tall  as 
ever,  we  knew  that  the  worst  was  over.  We  could 
not  have  explained  our  assurance.  It  was  a  feeling 
— no  more — but  one  which  anv  man  will  recognise 
who  has  outlived  a  like  time  of  peril  on  the  sea.  We 
did  not  hope  again,  for  we  were  past  the  effort  to 
hope.  Numb,  drenched,  our  very  skins  bleached  like 
a  washerw^oman's  hands,  our  eyes  caked  with  brine, 
our  limbs  so  broken  with  weariness  of  the  eternal 
pumping  that  wdien  our  shift  was  done,  where  we  fell 
there  we  lav,  and  had  to  be  kicked  aside — we  had 
scarcely  the  spirit  to  choose  between  life  and  death. 
Yet  all  the  while  we  had  been  fighting  for  life  like 
madmen. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  day,  too,  Roger  Wearne 
had  made  shift  to  crawl  on  deck  and  bear  a  hand. 
Captain  Pomery  lay  in  the  huddle  of  the  forecastle, 
no  man  tending  him :  and  old  Worthyvale  awaited 
burial,  stretched  in  the  hold  upon  the  ballast. 

At  wdiiles,  as  my  fingers  cramped  themselves 
around  the  handle  of  the  pump,  it  seemed  as  though 
we  had  been  fighting  this  fight,  tholing  this  misery, 
gripping  the  verge  of  this  precipice  for  years  iipon 
years,  and  this  nightmare  sat  heaviest  npon  me  w^hen 
the  third  morning,  broke  and  T  turned  in  the  sudden 

233 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTAISTTINE 

blessed  simsliiue — but  we  blessed  it  not — and  saw 
w^hat  age  the  struggle  had  written  on  my  father's 
face.  I  passed  a  hand  over  my  dazed  eyes,  and  at 
that  moment  Mr.  Fett,  who  had  been  snatching  an 
hour's  sleep  below — and  no  man  better  deserved  it 
— thrust  his  head  up  through  the  broken  hatchway, 
carolling — 

To  all  you  ladies  now  at  land 

We  men  at  sea  indite, 
But  first  would  have  you  understand 

How  hard  it  is  to  write: 
Our  paper,  pen  and  ink,  and  we 
Roll  up  and  down  our  ships  at  sea, 
With  a  fa-Za-LA! 

"  Catch  him !  "  cried  my  father  sharply ;  but  he 
meant  not  Mr.  Fett.  His  eyes  were  on  Billy  Priske, 
who,  perched  on  the  temporary  platform,  where  al- 
most without  relief  he  had  sat  and  steered  us,  shout- 
ing his  orders  without  sign  of  fatigue,  sank  forward 
with  the  rudder-ropes  dragging  through  his  hands, 
and  dropped  into  the  hold. 

For  me  I  cast  myself  down  on  deck  with  face  up- 
turned to  the  sun,  and  slept. 

I  woke  to  find  my  father  seated  close  to  me,  cross- 
legged,  examining  a  sextant. 

"  The    plague    of    it    is,"    he    grumbled,    "  that 

234: 


HOW    WE    Lx\NDED    ON    THE    ISLxVXD 

even  supposing  myself  to  have  mastered  this  diabol- 
ical instrument,  we  have  ne'er  a  compass  on 
board." 

Glancing  aft,  I  saw  that  Mike  Halliday  had  taken 
Billy's  place  at  the  helm.  At  my  elbow  lay  Xat, 
still  sleeping.  Mr.  Badcock  had  crawled  to  the  bul- 
warks and  leaned  there  in  uncontrollable  sea-sickness. 
Until  the  gale  was  done  I  believe  he  had  not  felt  a 
qualm.  Xow,  on  the  top  of  his  nausea  he  had  to 
endure  the  raillery  of  Mr.  Eett,  whose  active  fancy 
had  already  invented  a  grotesque  and  wholly  im- 
truthful  accusation  against  his  friend — namely,  that 
when  assailed  by  the  Moors,  and  in  the  act  of  being 
kicked  below,  he  had  dropped  on  his  knees  and  of- 
fered to  turn  Mohammedan. 

That  evening  we  committed  old  Worthyvale's  body 
to  the  sea:  and  my  father,  having  taken  his  first 
observation  at  noon,  carefully  entered  the  latitude 
and  longitude  in  liis  pocket-book.  On  consulting  the 
chart  we  found  the  alleged  bearings  somewhere  south 
of  Asia-Minor — to  be  exact,  off  the  coast  of  Pam- 
phylia.  My  father  therefore  added  the  word  "  ap- 
proximately "  to  his  entry  and  waited  for  Captain 
Pomerv  to  recover. 

Though  the  sea  went  down  even  more  quickly  than 
it  had  arisen,  the  pumps  kept  us  fairly  busy.  All 
that  night,  under  a  clear  and  starry  sky,  we  steered 

235 


Sm    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

for  the  north-east  with  the  wind  brisk  upon  our  star- 
board quarter. 

I  have  no  chart, 

No  compass  but  a  heart, 

quoted  I  in  mischief  to  Nat.  But  Nat,  having 
passed  through  a  real  gale,  had  saved  not  sufficient 
fondness  for  his  verse  to  blush  for  it.  We  should 
have  been  mournful  for  old  Worthyvale,  but  that 
night  we  knew  only  that  it  was  good,  being  young, 
to  have  escaped  death.  Under  the  stars  we  made  bad 
jokes  on  Mr.  Badcock's  sea-sickness  and  sang  in 
chorus  to  Mr.  Fett's  solos: 

With  a  fa-la,  fa-la,  fa-la-la! 
To  all  you  ladies  now  at  land  .  .  . 

Next  morning  Captain  Pomery  (whose  hurt  was 
a  pretty  severe  concussion  of  the  skull,  the  explosion 
having  flung  him  into  the  panelling  of  the  ship's 
cabin,  and  against  a  knee  of  a  beam)  returned  to 
duty  and  professed  himself  able,  with  help,  to  take 
a  reckoning.  He  relieved  us  of  another  anxiety  by 
producing  a  pocket-compass  from  his  fob. 

My  father  held  the  sextant  for  him :  while  Nat, 
under  instructions,  worked  out  the  sum.  With  a 
compass,  upon  a  chart  spread  on  the  deck,  I  pricked 
out  the  bearings — with  a  result  that  astonished  all 
as  I  leapt  up  and  stared  across  the  bows. 

236 


HOW    WE    LANDED    OX    THE    ISLAND 

"  Why,  lad,  by  the  look  of  you  we  should  be  run- 
ning ashore !  "  exclaimed  my  father. 

"  And  so  Ave  should  be  at  this  moment,"  said  I, 
"  were  not  the  reckoning  out." 

Captain  Pomery  reached  out  for  the  paper.  "  The 
reckoning  is  right  enough,"  said  he  after  studying 
it  awhile. 

"  Then  on  what  land,  in  Heaven's  name,  are  we 
running  ?  "  my  father  demanded  testily. 

"  Why,  on  Corsica,"  I  answered,  pointing  with 
my  compass'  foot  as  he  bent  over  the  chart.  "  On 
Corsica.     Where  else  ?  " 

It  wanted  between  three  and  four  hours  of  sunset 
when  we  made  the  landfall  and  assured  ourselves 
that  what  appeared  so  like  a  low  cloud  on  the  east- 
north-eastern  horizon  was  indeed  the  wished-for 
island.  We  fell  to  discussing  our  best  way  to  ap- 
proach it;  my  father  at  first  maintaining  that  the 
coast  would  be  watched  by  Genoese  vessels,  and  there- 
fore we  should  do  wisely  to  take  down  sail  and  wait 
for  darkness. 

Against  this  Captain  Pomery  maintained — 

1.  That  we  were  carrying  a  fair  wind,  and  the 
Lord  knew  how  long  that  would  hold. 

2.  That  the  moon  would  rise  in  less  than 
three  hours  after  dark,  and  thenceforth  we  should 

237 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

run  almost  the  same  risk  of  detection  as  by  day- 
light. 

3.  That  in  any  case  we  could  pass  for  what  we 
really  were,  an  English  trader  in  ballast,  barely 
escaped  from  shipwreck,  dismasted,  with  broken 
steerage,  making  for  the  nearest  port.  "  Man,"  said 
Captain  Pomery  looking  about  him,  "  we  must  be 
a  poor  set  of  liars  if  we  can't  pitch  a  yarn  on  this 
evidence !  " 

My  father  allowed  himself  to  be  persuaded,  the 
more  easily  as  the  argument  jumped  with  his  im- 
patience. Accordingly,  we  stood  on  for  land,  mak- 
ing no  concealment ;  and  the  wind  holding  steady  on 
our  beam,  and  the  sun  dropping  astern  of  us  in  a 
sky  without  a  cloud,  'twas  incredible  how  soon  we 
began  to  make  out  the  features  of  the  land.  It  rose 
like  a  shield  to  a  central  boss,  which  trembled,  as  it 
were,  into  view  and  revealed  itself  a  mountain  peak, 
snow-capped  and  shining,  before  ever  the  purple  mist 
began  to  slip  from  the  slopes  below  it  and  disclose 
their  true  verdure.  ISTo  sail  broke  the  expanse  of 
sea  between  us  and  the  shore ;  and,  as  we  neared  it, 
no  scarp  of  cliff,  no  house  or  group  of  houses  broke 
the  island's  green  monotony.  From  the  water's  edge 
to  the  high  snow-line  it  might  have  been  built  of 
moss,  so  vivid  its  colour  was,  yet  soft  as  velvet,  and 
softer  and  still  more  vivid  as  we  approached. 

238 


HOW    WE    LANDED    OX    THE    ISLAND 

Within  two  miles  of  shore,  and  not  long  before 
dark,  the  wind  (as  Captain  Pomery  had  promised) 
broke  off  and  headed  us,  blowing  cool  and  fresh  off 
the  land.  I  was  hauling  in  the  foresheet  and  be- 
laying when  a  sudden  waft  of  fragrance  fetched  me 
upright,  with  head  thrown  back  and  nostrils  in- 
haling the  breeze. 

"  Ay,"  said  my  father  at  my  elbow,  "  there  is  no 
scent  on  earth  to  compare  with  it.  You  smell  the 
maccliia,  lad.  Drink  well  your  first  drauglit  of  it, 
delicious  as  first  love." 

"  But  somewhere — at  some  time — I  have  smelt  it 
before,"  said  I.  "  The  same  scent,  only  fainter. 
Why  does  it  remind  me  of  home  ?  " 

My  father  considered.  "  I  will  tell  you,"  he  said. 
"  In  the  corridor  at  home,  outside  my  bedroom  door, 
stands  a  wardrobe,  and  in  it  hang  the  clothes  I 
wore,  near  upon  twenty  years  ago,  in  Corsica.  They 
keep  the  fragrance  of  the  macchia  yet;  and  if,  as  a 
child,  you  ever  opened  that  wardrobe  you  recall  it 
at  this  moment." 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  that  was  the  scent." 

My  father  leaned  and  gazed  at  the  island  with  dim 
eyes. 

Still  no  sign  of  house  or  habitation  greeted  us  as 
Ave  worked  by  short  tacks  towards  a  deep  bay  which 
my   father,    after   a   prolonged   consultation   of   the 

239 


SIE    JOHN    CONSTANTIXE 

chart,  decided  to  be  that  of  Sagona.  A  sharp  prom- 
ontory ran  out  upon  its  northern  side,  and  within 
the  shelter  of  this  Captain  Pomery  looked  to  find 
good  anchorage.  But  the  Gauntlet,  after  all  her  bat- 
tering, lay  so  poorly  to  the  wind  that  darkness  over- 
took us  a  good  mile  from  land,  and  before  we  weath- 
ered the  point  and  cast  anchor  in  a  little  bight  within, 
the  moon  had  risen.  It  showed  us  a  steep  shore 
near  at  hand  with  many  grey  pinnacles  of  granite 
glimmering  high  over  dark  masses  of  forest  trees,  and 
in  the  farthest  angle  of  the  bight  its  rays  travelled 
in  silver  down  the  waters  of  a  miniature  creek. 

The  hawser  ran  out  into  five  fathoms  of  water. 
We  had  lost  our  boat :  but  Billy  Priske  had  spent  his 
afternoon  in  fashioning  a  raft  out  of  four  empty 
casks  and  half  a  dozen  broken  lengths  of  deck- 
planking;  and  on  this,  leaving  the  seamen  on  board, 
the  rest  of  us  pushed  off  for  shore.  For  paddles  we 
used  a  couple  of  spare  oars. 

The  water,  smooth  as  in  a  lake,  gave  us  our  choice 
to  make  a  landing  where  we  would.  My  father, 
however,  who  had  taken  command,  chose  to  steer 
straight  for  the  entrance  of  the  little  creek.  There, 
between  tall  entrance  rocks  of  granite,  we  passed 
straight  into  the  shadow  of  folding  woods  where  the 
moon  was  lost  to  us.  Sounding  with  our  paddles,  we 
found  a  good  depth  of  water  under  the  raft,  lit  a 

240 


now    WE    LANDED    ON    THE    TSLAND 

lantern,  and  pushed  on,  my  father  promising  that 
we  should  discover  a  village  or  at  least  a  hamlet  at 
the  creek-head. 

"  And  you  will  find  the  inhabitants — your  sub- 
jects, Prosper — hospitable  too.  Whatever  the  island 
may  have  been  in  Seneca's  time,  to  deserve  the  abuse 
he  heaped  on  it  in  exile,  to-day  the  Corsicans  keep 
more  of  the  old  classical  virtues  than  any  nation 
known  to  me.  In  vendetta  they  will  slay  one  an- 
other, using  the  worst  treachery ;  but  a  stranger  may 
walk  the  length  of  the  island  unarmed — save  against 
the  Genoese — and  find  a  meal  at  the  poorest  cottage, 
and  a  bed^  however  rough,  whereon  he  may  lay  his 
head  and  sleep  untroubled  by  suspicion." 

The  raft  grated  and  took  ground  on  a  shelving 
bank  of  sand :  when  Nat,  who  stood  forward  holding 
the  lantern,  made  a  motion  to  step  on  shore.  My 
father  restrained  him. 

"  Prosper  goes  first." 

I  stepped  on  to  the  bank.  My  father,  following, 
stooped,  gathered  a  handful  of  the  fine  granite  sand, 
and,  holding  it  in  the  lantern's  light,  let  it  run 
through  his  fingers. 

"  Hat  off,  lad  !  and  salute  your  kingdom  !  " 

"  But  where,"  said  I,  "  be  my  subjects  ?  " 

It  seemed,  as  we  formed  ourselves  into  marching 
order,  that  I  was  on  the  point  to  be  answered.     For 

241 


SIR    JOHN    COXSTAXTIXE 

above  the  bank  Ave  came  to  a  causeway  which  onr 
lanterns  plainly  showed  lis  to  be  man''s  handiwork ; 
and,  following  it  round  the  bend  of  a  valley  where 
a  stream  sang  its  way  down  to  the  creek,  came  sud- 
denly on  a  flat  meadow  swept  by  the  pale  light  and 
rising  to  a  grassy  slope  where  a  score  of  whitewashed 
houses  huddled  around  a  tall  belfry,  all  glimmering 
under  the  moon. 

"  In  Corsica,"  repeated  my  father,  leading  the  way 
across  the  meadow,  "  every  householder  is  a  host." 

He  halted  at  the  base  of  the  village  street. 

"  It  is  curious,  however,  that  the  dogs  have  not 
heard  us.  Their  barking,  as  a  rule,  is  something  to 
remember." 

He  stepped  up  to  the  first  house  to  knock.  There 
was  no  door  to  knock  upon.  The  building  stood 
open,  desolate.  Our  lanterns  showed  the  grass  grow- 
ing on  its  threshold. 

We  tried  the  next  and  the  next.  The  whole  vil- 
lage lay  dead,  abandoned.  We  gathered  in  the  street 
and  shouted,  raising  our  lanterns  aloft.  Xo  voice 
answered  us. 


242 


CHAPTER    XIII 

HOW    WITHOUT    FIGHTING   OUR    ABMY    WASTED    BY 
ENCHANTMENT 

Adrian.      The  air  breathes  upon  us  here  most  sweetly  .  .  , 
Gonzalo.     Here  is  everything  advantageous  to  life. 
Ayitonio.     True:  save  means  to  live. 

Caliban.     Be  not  afeard;  the  isle  is  full  of  noises, 

Sounds  and  sweet  airs,  that  give  delight  and  hurt 
not.  ^The  Tempest. 

Upon  a  sudden  thought  my  father  hurried  us 
towards  the  tall  belfry.  It  rose  cold  and  white 
against  the  moon,  at  the  end  of  a  nettle-gro^vn  lane. 
A  garth  of  ilex-oaks  surrounded  it ;  and  beside  it, 
more  than  half-hidden  by  the  untrimmed  trees,  stood 
a  ridiculously  squat  church.  By  instinct,  or,  rather, 
from  association  of  ideas  learnt  in  Eno-land,  I 
glanced  around  this  churchyard  for  its  gravestones. 
There  were  none.  Yet  for  the  second  time  within 
these  few  hours  I  was  strangely  reminded  of  home, 
where  in  an  upper  garret  were  stacked  half  a  dozen 
age-begrimed  paintings  on  panel,  one  of  which  on 
an  idle  day  two  years  ago  I  had  taken  a  fancy  to 
scour  with   soap   and   water.      The   painting   repre- 

243 


SIK    JOHN    CONSTANTIXE 

sented  a  tall  man,  crowned  and  wearing  Eastern 
armour,  with  a  small  slave  in  short  jacket  and  baggy 
white  breeches  holding  a  white  charger  in  readiness ; 
all  three  figures  awkwardly  drawn  and  without 
knowledge  of  anatomy.  For  background  my  scour- 
ing had  brought  to  light  a  group  of  buildings,  and 
among  them  just  such  a  church  as  this,  with  just 
such  a  belfry.  Of  architecture  and  its  different 
styles  I  knew  nothing;  but,  comparing  the  church 
before  me  with  what  I  could  recollect  of  the  paint- 
ing, I  recognised  every  detail,  from  the  cupola,  high- 
set  upon  open  arches,  to  the  round,  windowless  apse 
in  which  the  building  ended. 

My  father,  meanwhile,  had  taken  a  lantern  and 
explored  the  interior. 

"  I  know  this  place,"  he  announced  quietly  as  he 
reappeared,  after  two  or  three  minutes,  in  the  ruin- 
ous doorway :  "  it  is  called  Paomia.  We  can  bivouac 
in  peace,  and  I  doubt  that  by  searching  we  could  find 
a  better  spot." 

We  ate  our  supper  of  cold  bacon  and  ship-bread, 
both  slightly  damaged  by  sea-water — but  the  wine 
solaced  us,  being  excellent — and  stretched  ourselves 
to  sleep  under  the  ilex  boughs,  my  father  undertak- 
ing to  stand  sentry  till  daybreak.  Xat  and  I  pro- 
tested against  this,  and  offered  ourselves ;  but  he  cut 
us  short.     He  had  his  reasons,  he  said. 

244 


WASTED    BY    ENCHANTMENT 

It  must  have  been  two  or  even  three  hours  later 
that  I  awoke  at  the  touch  of  his  hand  on  my  shoul- 
der, I  stared  up  through  the  boughs  at  the  setting 
moon,  and  around  me  at  my  comrades  asleep  in  the 
grasses.  He  signed  to  me  not  to  awake  them,  but  to 
stand  up  and  follow  him  softly. 

Passing  through  the  screen  of  ilex,  we  came  to  a 
gap  in  the  stone  wall  of  the  garth,  and  through  this, 
at  the  base  of  the  hillside  below  the  forest,  to  a  sec- 
ond screen  of  cypress  which  opened  suddenly  upon 
a  semicircle  of  turf;  and  here,  bathed  in  the  moon's 
rays  that  slanted  over  the  cypress-tops,  stood  a  small 
Doric  temple  of  weather-stained  marble,  in  propor- 
tions most  delicate,  a  background  for  a  dance  of 
nymphs,  a  fit  tiring-room  for  Diana  and  her  train. 

Its  door — if  ever  it  had  possessed  one — was  gone, 
like  every  other  door  in  this  strange  village.  My 
father  led  the  way  up  the  white  steps,  halted  on  the 
threshold,  and,  standing  aside  lest  he  should  block  the 
moonlight,  pointed  within. 

I  stood  at  his  shoulder  and  looked.  The  interior 
was  empty,  bare  of  all  ornament.  On  the  wall  fac- 
ing the  door,  and  cut  in  plain  letters  a  foot  high, 
two  words  confronted  me: 

^lyVOnATPI    2TE<I>ANOnOYAni 

"A  tomb?"  I  asked. 

"  Yes,   and   a   kinsman's ;  for   the   Stephanopouli 

245 


Sm   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

were  of  blood  the  emperors  did  not  disdain  to  mate 
with.  In  the  last  rally  the  Turks  had  much  ado  with 
them  as  leaders  of  the  Moreote  tribes  around  Maina, 
and  north  along  Taygetus  to  Sparta.  Yes,  and  there 
were  some  who  revived  the  Spartan  name  in  those 
days,  maintaining  the  fight  among  the  mountains 
until  the  Turks  swarmed  across  from  Crete,  overran 
Maina,  and  closed  the  struggle.  Yet  there  was  a  man, 
Constantine  Stephanopoulos,  the  grandfather  of  this 
Philopater,  who  would  buy  nothing  at  the  price  of 
slavery,  but,  collecting  a  thousand  souls — men,  wom- 
en, and  children — escaped  by  ship  from  Porto  Vitilo 
and  sailed  in  search  of  a  new  home.  At  first  he  had 
thought  of  Sicily ;  but,  finding  no  welcome  there,  he 
came  (in  the  spring  of  1675,  I  think)  to  Genoa,  and 
obtained  leave  from  the  Genoese  to  choose  a  site  in 
Corsica." 

"  And  it  was  here  he  planted  his  colony  ?  " 
"  In  this  very  valley ;  but,  mind  you,  at  the  price 
of  swearing  fealty  to  the  Republic  of  Genoa — this 
and  the  repayment  of  a  beggarly  thousand  piastres 
which  the  Republic  had  advanced  to  pay  the  captain 
of  the  ship  which  brought  them,  and  to  buy  food  and 
clothing.  Very  generous  treatment  it  seemed.  Yet 
you  have  heard  me  say  before  now  that  liberty  never 
stands  in  its  worst  peril  until  the  hour  of  success; 
then  too  often  men  turn  her  sword  against  her.     So 

246 


WASTED    BY    ENCHAXTMEKT 

these  men  of  Lacedaemon,  coming  to  an  island  where 
the  rule  of  Genoa  was  a  scourge  to  all  except  them- 
selves, in  gratitude,  or  for  their  oath's  sake,  took 
sides  with  the  oppressor.  Therefore  the  Corsicans, 
who  never  forget  an  injury,  turned  upon  them,  drove 
them  for  shelter  to  Ajaccio,  and  laid  their  valley 

desolate;  nor  have  the  Genoese  power  to  restore 
them. 

"  Fate,  Prosper,  has  landed  you  on  this  very  spot 

where  your  kinsmen  found  refuge  for  awhile,  and 

broke  the  ground,  and  planted  orchards,  hoping  for 

a  fair  continuance  of  peace  and  peaceful  tillage. 

"  Per  varios  casus,  per  tot  discrimina  rerum 
Tendimus  in  Latium — 

— "  How  will  you  read  the  omen  ?  " 

"  You  say,"  said  I,  "  that  had  we  found  our  kins- 
men here  we  had  found  them  in  league  against  free- 
dom, and  friends  of  the  tyranny  we  are  here  to 
fight?" 

"  Assuredly." 

"  Then,  sir,  let  me  read  the  omen  as  a  lesson,  and 
avoid  my  kinsmen's  mistake." 

My  father  smiled  and  clapped  me  on  the  shoulder. 
"  You  say  little,  as  a  rule,  Prosper.  It  is  a  good 
fault  in  kings." 

We  walked  back  to  the  churchyard,   where  Mr. 

247 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

Fett  sat  up,  rubbing  his  eyes  in  the  dawn,  and  hailed 
us; 

"  Good  morning,  signors !  I  have  been  dreaming 
that  I  came  to  a  kingdom  which,  indeed,  seemed  to 
be  an  island,  but  on  inspection  proved  to  be  a  mush- 
room. What  interpretation  have  you  when  a  man 
dreams  of  mushrooms  ?  " 

"  Why,  this,"  said  I,  "  that  we  passed  some 
score  of  them  in  the  meadow  below.  I  saw  them 
plain  by  the  moonlight,  and  kicked  at  them  to  make 
sure." 

"  I  did  better,"  said  Mr.  Fett ;  "  I  gathered  a 
dozen  or  two  in  my  cap,  foreseeing  breakfast.  Faith, 
and  while  you  have  been  gadding  I  might  have  added 
a  rasher  of  bacon.  Did  you  meet  any  hogs  on  your 
way  ?  But  no ;  they  turned  back  and  took  the  path 
that  appears  to  run  up  to  the  woods  yonder." 

"  Hogs  ?  "  queried  my  father. 

"  They  woke  me,  nosing  and  grunting  among  the 
nettles  by  the  wall — lean,  brown  beasts  with  Homeric 
chines,  and  two  or  three  of  them  huge  as  the  Boar  of 
Calydon.  I  was  minded  to  let  off  my  gim  at  'em, 
but  refrained  upon  two  considerations — the  first,  that 
if  they  were  tame,  to  shoot  them  might  compromise 
our  welcome  here,  and  perhaps  painfully,  since  the 
dimensions  of  the  pigs  appeared  to  argue  consider- 
able physical  strength  in  their  masters;  the  second, 

248 


WAS'l'KI)    BY    EXCIIAXTMEXT 

that  if  wild  tliov  might  be  savage  enough  to  defend 
themselves  when  attacked." 

"  Donhtless,"  said  my  father,  "  they  belong  to 
some  herdsman  in  the  forest  above  us,  and  have 
strayed  down  in  search  of  acorns.  They  cannot  be- 
long to  this  village." 

"  And  why,  pray  ?  " 

"  Because  it  contains  not  a  single  inhabitant. 
Moreover,  gentlemen,  while  you  were  sleeping  I  have 
taken  a  pretty  extensive  stroll.  The  vineyards  lie  un- 
kempt, the  vines  themselves  unthinned,  up  to  the 
edge  of  the  forest.  The  olive-trees  have  not  been 
tended,  but  have  shed  their  fruit  for  years  with  no 
man  to  gather.  Many  even  have  cracked  and  fallen 
under  the  weight  of  their  crops.  But  no  trace  of 
beast,  wild  or  tame,  did  I  discover ;  no  dung,  no  signs 
of  trampling.     The  valley  is  utterly  desolate." 

"  It  grows  mushrooms,"  said  Mr.  Fett  cheerfully, 
piling  a  heap  of  dry  twigs ;  "  and  we  have  ship's 
butter  and  a  frying-pan." 

"  Are  you  sure,"  asked  Mr.  Badcock,  examining 
one,  "  that  these  are  true  mushrooms  ?  " 

"  They  were  grown  in  Corsica,  and  have  not  sub- 
scribed to  the  Thirty-nine  Articles ;  still,  mutatis 
mutandis,  in  my  belief  they  are  good  mushrooms.  If 
you  doubt,  we  can  easily  make  sure  by  stewing  them 
awhile  in  a  saucepan  and  stirring  them  with  a  silver 

249 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

spoon,  or  boiling  them  gently  with  Mr.  Badcock's 
watch,  as  was  advised  by  Mr.  Locke,  author  of  the 
famous  '  Essay  on  the  Human  Understanding.'  " 

"  Indeed  ?  "  said  my  father.  "  The  passage  must 
have  escaped  me." 

"  It  does  not  occur  in  the  '  Essay.'  He  gave  the 
advice  at  Montpellier  to  an  English  family  of  the 
name  of  Robinson;  and  had  they  listened  to  him 
it  would  have  robbed  Micklethwaite's  '  Botany  of 
Pewsey  and  Devizes '  of  some  fascinating  pages." 

Mr.  Fett's  Story  of  the  Fungi  of  Montpellier 

"  About  the  year  1677,  when  Mr.  Locke  resided 
at  Montpellier  for  the  benefit  of  his  health,  and  while 
his  famous  '  Essay  '  lay  as  yet  in  the  womb  of  fu- 
turity, there  happened  to  be  staying  in  the  same 
pension  an  English  family " 

"  Excuse  me,"  put  in  my  father,  "  I  do  not  quite 
gather  where  these  people  lodged." 

"  The  sentence  was  faultily  constructed,  I  admit. 
They  were  lodging  in  the  same  pension  as  Mr.  Locke. 
The  family  consisted  of  a  Mrs.  Robinson,  a  widow ; 
her  son  Eustace,  aged  seventeen;  her  daughter 
Laetitia,  a  child  of  fourteen,  suffering  from  a  slight 
pulmonary  complaint;  her  son's  tutor,  whose  name 
I  forget  for  the  moment,  but  he  was  a  graduate  of 

250 


WASTED    BY    EXCHANTMEXT 

Sidney  Sussex,  Cambridge,  and  an  ardent  botanist ; 
and  a  good-natured  English  female  named  Maria 
Wilkins,  an  old  servant  whom  Mrs.  Robinson  had 
brought  from  home — Pewsey,  in  Wiltshire — to  at- 
tend upon  this  Laititia.  The  Robinsons,  you  gather, 
were  well-to-do ;  they  were  even  well  connected ;  albeit 
their  social  position  did  not  quite  warrant  their  story 
being  included  in  the  late  Mr.  Darcy  Smith's  '  Trage- 
dies and  Vicissitudes  of  Our  County  Families.' 

"  It  appears  that  the  lad  Eustace,  perceiving 
that  his  sister's  delicate  health  procured  her  some 
indulgences,  complained  of  headaches,  which  he 
attributed  to  a  too  intense  application  upon  the 
'  Memorabilia  '  of  Xenophon,  and  cajoled  his  mother 
into  packing  him  off  with  the  tutor  on  a  holiday 
expedition  to  the  neighbouring  mountains  of  Gar- 
rigues.  From  this  they  returned  two  days  later, 
about  the  time  of  dejeuner,  with  a  quantity  of  mush- 
rooms, which  the  tutor,  who  had  discovered  them, 
handed  around  for  inspection,  asserting  them  to  be 
edible. 

"  The  opinion  of  Mr.  Locke  being  invited,  that 
philosopher  took  up  the  position  he  afterwards  elab- 
orated so  ingeniously,  declaring  that  knowledge  con- 
cerning these  mushrooms  could  only  be  the  result  of 
experience,  and  suggesting  that  the  tutor  should  first 
make  proof  of  their  innocuousness  on  his  own  person. 

251 


Sm    JOHN    COXSTAXTIXE 

Upon  this  the  tutor,  a  priggish  youth,  retorted  hotly 
that  he  should  hope  his  Cambridge  studies,  for  which 
his  parents  had  pinched  themselves  by  many  small 
economies,  had  at  least  taught  him  to  discriminate 
between  the  agarici.  Mr.  Locke  in  vain  endeavoured 
to  divert  the  conversation  upon  the  scope  and  objects 
of  a  university  education,  and  fell  back  on  suggest- 
ing that  the  alleged  mushrooms  should  be  stewed,  and 
the  stew  stirred  with  a  silver  spoon,  when,  if  the 
spoon  showed  no  discolouration,  he  would  take  back 
his  opinion  that  they  contained  phosphorus  in  ap- 
preciable quantities.  He  was  called  an  empiricist 
for  his  pains ;  and  Mrs.  Robinson  (who  hated  a  dis- 
pute and  invariably  melted  at  any  allusion  to  the 
tutor's  res  angusta  domi)  weakly  gave  way.  The 
mushrooms  were  cooked  and  pronounced  excellent  by 
the  entire  family,  of  whom  Mrs.  Robinson  expired 
at  8.30  that  evening,  the  tutor  at  9  o'clock,  the  faith- 
ful domestic  Wilkins  and  Master  Eustace  shortly 
after  midnight,  and  an  Alsatian  cook,  attached  to  the 
establishment,  some  time  in  the  small  hours.  The 
poor  child,  who  had  partaken  but  sparingly,  lingered 
until  the  next  noon  before  succumbing." 

"  A  strange  fatality !  "  commented  Mr.  Badcock. 

Mr.  Fett  paused  and  eyed  him  awhile  in  frank  ad- 
miration before  continuing.  "  The  wonder  to  me  is 
vou  didn't  call  it  a  coincidence,"  he  murmured. 

252 


WASTED    BY    ENCHANTMENT 

"  Well,  and  so  it  was,"  said  Mr.  Badcock,  "  only 
the  word  didn't  occur  to  me." 

"  The  bodies,"  resumed  Mr.  Fett,  "  in  accordance 
with  the  by-laws  of  ^lontpellier,  were  conveyed  to  the 
town  mortuary,  and  there  bestowed  for  the  time  in 
open  coffins,  connected  by  means  of  wire  attachments 
with  a  bell  in  the  r©of — a  municipal  device  against 
premature  interment.  The  wires  also  carried  a  num- 
ber of  small  bells  very  sensitively  hung,  so  that 
the  smallest  movement  of  reviving  animation  would 
at  once  alarm  the  night-watchman  in  an  adjoining 
chamber. 

"  This  watchman,  an  honest  fellow  with  literary 
tastes  above  his  calling,  was  engaged  towards  mid- 
night in  reading  M.  de  la  Fontaine's  '  Elegie  aux 
Nymphes  de  Vaux,'  when  a  sudden,  violent  jangling 
fetched  him  to  his  feet,  with  every  hair  of  his  head 
erect  and  separate.  Before  he  could  collect  his  senses 
the  jangling  broke  into  a  series  of  terrific  explosions, 
in  the  midst  of  which  the  bell  in  the  roof  tolled  one 
awful  stroke  and  ceased. 

"  I  leave  to  your  imagination  the  sight  that  met 
his  eyes  when,  lantern  in  hand,  he  reached  the  mor- 
tuary door.  The  collected  remains,  promiscuously 
interred  next  day  by  the  municipality  of  Montpellier, 
were,  at  the  request  of  a  brother-in-law  of  Mrs. 
Robinson,  and  through  the  good  ofiices  of  Mr.  Locke, 

253 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

subsequently  exhumed  and  despatched  to  Pewsey, 
where  they  rest  under  a  suitable  inscription,  locally 
attributed  to  the  pen  of  Mr.  Locke.  His  admirers 
will  recognise  in  the  concluding  lines  that  conscien- 
tious exactitude  which  ever  distinguished  the  phi- 
losopher.    They  run: 

"  And  to  the  Memory  of  one 

Fkitz  (?  Sempach) 

a  Humble  Native  of  Alsace 

whose  remains,  by  Destiny  commingled 

with  the  foregoing, 

are  for  convenience  here  deposited. 

II.  Kings  iv.  39 

"  But  the  extraordinary  part  of  my  story,  gentle- 
men, remains  to  be  told.  Some  six  weeks  ago,  hap- 
pening, in  search  of  a  theatrical  engagement,  to  find 
myself  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Stonehenge,  I  fell 
in  with  a  pedestrian  whose  affability  of  accost  invited 
me  to  a  closer  acquaintance.  He  introduced  himself 
as  the  Reverend  Josias  Micklethwaite,  a  student  of 
ISTature,  and  more  particularly  of  the  mosses  and 
lichens  of  Wilts.  Our  liking  (I  have  reason  to  be- 
lieve) was  mutual,  and  we  spent  a  delightful  ten 
days  in  tracking  up  together  the  course  of  the  Wilt- 
shire Avon,  and  afterwards  in  perambulating  the 
famous  forest  of  Savernake.  Here,  I  regret  to  say, 
a  trifling  request — for  the  loan  of  five  shillings,  a 

254 


WASTED    BY    ENCHANTMEXT 

temporary  accommodation — led  to  a  misunderstand- 
ing, and  put  a  period  to  our  companionship,  and  I 
remain  liis  debtor  but  for  some  hours  of  profitable 
intercourse. 

"  Coming  at  the  close  of  a  day's  ramble  to 
Pewsey,  a  small  town  near  the  source  of  the  Avon, 
we  visited  its  parish  churchyard  and  happened  upon 
the  memorial  to  the  unfortunate  Robinsons.  An  old 
man  was  stooping  over  the  turf  beside  it,  engaged  m 
gathering  mushrooms,  numbers  of  which  gre\»  in  the 
grass  around  this  stone,  hut  nowhere  else  in  the  whole 
enclosure.  The  old  man,  who  proved  to  be  the  sex- 
ton, assured  us  not  only  of  this,  but  also  that  previ- 
ous to  the  interment  of  the  Robinsons  no  mushrooms 
had  grown  within  a  mile  of  the  spot.  He  added 
that,  albeit  regarded  with  abhorrence  by  the  more 
superstitious  inhabitants  of  Pewsey,  the  fungi  were 
edible,  and  gave  no  trouble  to  ordinary  digestions 
(his  own,  for  example)  ;  nor  upon  close  examination 
could  Mr.  Micklethwaite  detect  that  they  differed  at 
all  from  the  common  agaricus  campestris.  So,  sirs, 
concludes  my  tale." 

Mr.  Fett  ended  amid  impressive  silence. 

"  I  don't  feel  altogether  so  keen-set  as  I  did  five 
minutes  back,"  muttered  Billy  Priske. 

"  For  my  part,"  said  Mr.  Fett,  anointing  the 
gridiron  with   a   pat  of  ship's  butter,   ^'  I  offer  no 

255 


SIK    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

remark  upon  it  beyond  the  somewhat  banal  one  by 
which  we  have  all  been  anticipated  by  Hamlet: 
'  There  are  more  things  in  heaven  and  earth, 
Horatio /' 

"  Faith,  and  so  there  are,"  broke  in  Nat 
Fiennes,  catching  me  on  a  sudden  by  the  arm. 
"Listen!" 

High  on  the  forest  ridge,  far  and  faint,  yet  clear 
over  the  pine-tops,  a  voice  was  singing. 

The  voice  was  a  girl's — a  girl's,  or  else  some 
spirit's ;  for  it  fell  to  us  out  of  the  very  dawn,  paus- 
ing and  anon  dropping  again  in  little  cadences,  as 
though  upon  the  waft  of  wing;  and  wafted  with  it, 
wave  upon  wave,  came  also  the  morning  scent  of  the 
macchia. 

We  could  distinguish  no  words,  intently  though 
we  listened,  or  no  more  than  one,  which  sounded  like 
Mortii,  mortii,  mortu,  many  times  repeated  in  slow 
refrain  before  the  voice  lifted  again  to  the  air. 
But  the  air  itself  was  voluble  between  its  cadences, 
and  the  voice,  though  a  woman's,  seemed  to  chal- 
lenge us  on  a  high  martial  note,  half -menacing,  half- 
triumphant. 

Nat  Fiennes  had  sprung  to  his  feet,  musket  in 
hand,  when  another  and  less  romantic  sound  broke 
the  silence  of  the  near  woods;  and  down  through  a 
glade  on  the  slojDe  above  us,  where  darkness  and  day 

256 


WASTED    BY    ENCHAXTMEXT 

yet  mingled  in  a  bluish  twilight  under  the  close 
boughs,  came  scampering  back  the  hogs  described 
to  us  by  Mr.  Fett.  Apparently  they  had  recovered 
from  their  fright,  for  they  came  on  at  a  shuffling 
gallop  through  the  churchyard  gate,  nor  hesitated 
until  well  within  the  enclosure.  There,  with  much 
grunting,  they  drew"  to  a  standstill  and  eyed  us,  back- 
ing a  little,  and  sidling  off  by  twos  and  threes  among 
the  nettles  under  the  wall. 

"  They  are  tame  hogs  run  wild,"  said  my  father, 
after  studying  them  for  a  minute.  "  They  have  lost 
their  masters,  and  evidently  hope  we  have  succeeded 
to  the  care  of  their  troughs." 

He  moistened  a  manchet  of  bread  from  his  wine- 
flask  and  flung  it  towards  them.  The  hogs  winced 
away  with  a  squeal  of  alarm,  then  took  courage  and 
rushed  upon  the  morsel  together.  The  most  of  them 
were  lean  brutes,  though  here  and  there  a  fat  sow 
ran  with  the  herd,  her  dugs  almost  brushing  the 
ground.  In  colour  all  were  reddish-brown,  and  the 
chine  of  each  arched  itself  like  a  bent  bow.  Five 
or  six  carried  formidable  tusks. 

These  tusks,  I  thinlc,  must  have  struck  terror  in 
the  breast  of  Mr.  Badcock,  who,  as  my  father  enticed 
the  hogs  nearer  with  fresh  morsels  of  bread  until 
they  nuzzled  close  to  us,  suddenly  made  a  motion  to 
beat  them  off  with  the  butt  of  his  musket,  whereupon 

257 


SIK    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

the  whole  herd  wheeled  and  scampered  off  through 
the  gateway. 

"  Why,  man,"  cried  my  father  angrily,  "  did  I 
not  tell  you  they  were  tame !  And  now  you  have  lost 
us  good  provender !  "    He  raised  his  gun. 

But  here  Nat  touched  his  arm.  "  Let  me  follow 
them,  sir,  and  see  which  way  they  take.  Being  so 
tame,  they  have  likely  enough  some  master  or  herds- 
man up  yonder " 

"  Or  herdswoman,"  I  laughed.  "  Take  me  with 
you,  Nat." 

"  Nay,  that  I  won't,"  he  answered,  with  a  quick 
blush.     "  You  have  the  temper  of  Adonis — 

"  Hunting  he  lov'd,  but  love  he  laughed  to  scorn, 

and  I  fear  his  fate  for  you,  one  little  Adonis  among 
so  many  boars !  " 

"  Then  take  we,"  urged  Mr.  Badcock.  "  Indeed, 
sir,"  he  apologised,  turning  to  my  father,  "  the  move- 
ment was  involuntary.  I  am  no  coward,  sir,  though 
a  sudden  apprehension  may  for  the  movement  flush 
my  nerves.  I  desire  to  prove  to  you  that  on  second 
thoughts  I  am  ready  to  face  all  the  boars  in  Christen- 
dom." 

"  I  did  not  accuse  you,"  said  my  father.  "  But 
go  with  Mr.  Fiennes  if  you  wish." 

Nat  nodded,  tucked  his  musket  under  his  arm,  and 

258 


WASTED    BY    ENCHANTMENT 

strode  out  of  the  churchyard  with  i\Ir.  Badcock  at 
his  heels.  By  the  gateway  he  halted  a  moment  and 
listened ;  but  the  voice  sang  no  longer  from  the  ridge. 

We  watched  the  pair  as  they  went  up  the  glade, 
and  turned  to  our  breakfast.  Tlie  meal  over,  mv 
father  proposed  to  me  to  return  to  the  creek  and 
fetch  up  a  three  days'  supply  of  provisions  from  the 
ship,  leaving  Mr.  Fett  and  Billy  Priske  to  guard  the 
camp.  (In  our  confidence  of  finding  the  valley  in- 
habited we  had  brought  but  two  pounds  of  ship's 
biscuit,  one-third  as  much  butter,  and  a  small  keg 
only  of  salt  pork.) 

We  were  absent,  maybe,  for  two  hours  and  a  half; 
and  on  our  way  back  fell  in  with  Billy,  who,  having 
suffered  no  ill  effects  from  his  breakfast  of  mush- 
rooms (though  he  had  eaten  them  under  protest),  was 
roaming  the  meadow  in  search  of  more.  We  asked 
him  if  the  two  explorers  had  returned. 

He  answered  "  No,"  and  that  Mr.  Fett  had 
strolled  up  into  the  wood  in  search  of  chestnuts,  leav- 
ing him  sentry  over  the  camp. 

"  And  is  it  thus  you  keep  sentry?  "  my  father  de- 
manded. 

"  Why,  master,  since  this  valley  has  no  more 
tenantry  than  Sodom  or  Gomorrah,  cities  of  the 
plain — "  Billy  began  confidently,  but  his  voice 
trailed  off  under  mv  father's  frowTi. 

259 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

"  You  have  done  ill,  the  pair  of  you,"  said  my 
father,  and  strode  ahead  of  us  across  the  meadow. 

At  the  gate  of  the  enclosure  he  came  to  an  abrupt 
halt. 

The  hogs  had  returned  and  were  routing  among 
our  camp  furniture.  For  the  rest,  the  churchyard 
was  empty.  But  where  were  JSTat  Fiennes  and  Mr. 
Badcock,  who  had  sallied  out  to  follow  them?  And 
where  was  Mr.  Fett  ? 

We  rushed  upon  the  brutes,  and  drove  them  squeal- 
ling  out  of  the  gateway  leading  to  the  woods.  They 
took  the  rise  of  the  glade  at  a  gallop,  and  were  lost 
to  us  in  the  undergrowth.  We  followed,  shouting 
our  comrades'  names.  No  answer  came  back  to  us, 
though  our  voices  must  have  carried  far  beyond  the 
next  ridge.  For  an  hour  we  beat  the  wood,  keeping 
together  by  my  father's  order,  and  shouting,  now 
singly,  now  in  chorus.  Nat,  likely  enough,  had 
pressed  forward  beyond  earshot,  and  led  Mr.  Bad- 
cock  on  with  him.  But  what  had  become  of  Mr. 
Fett,  who,  as  Billy  asseverated,  had  promised  to  take 
but  a  short  stroll  ? 

My  father's  frown  grew  darker  and  yet  darker  as 
the  minutes  wore  on  and  still  no  voice  answered  our 
hailing.  The  sun  was  declining  fast  when  he  gave 
the  order  to  return  to  camp,  which  we  found  as  we 
had  left  it.    We  seated  ourselves  amid  the  disordered 

260 


WASTED    BY    ENCHAN^TMENT 

baggage,  pulled  out  a  ration  apiece  of  salt  pork  and 
ship's  bread,  and  ate  our  supper  in  moody  silence. 

During  the  meal  Billy  kept  his  eye  furtively  on 
my  father. 

"  Master,"  said  he  at  the  close,  plucking  up  cour- 
age as  my  father  filled  and  lit  a  pipe  of  tobacco,  "  I 
be  terribly  to  blame." 

My  father  puffed,  without  answering. 

"  The  Lord  knows  whether  they  be  safe  or  lost," 
went  on  Billy  desperately ;  "  but  we  be  safe,  and 
those  as  can  ought  to  sleep  to-night." 

Still  my  father  gave  no  answer. 

"  I  can't  sleep,  sir,  with  this  on  my  conscience — 
no,  not  if  I  tried.  Give  me  leave,  sir,  to  stand  sentry 
while  you  and  Master  Prosper  take  what  sleep  you 
may." 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  can  trust  you,"  said  my 
father. 

"  'Twas  a  careless  act,  I'll  allow.  But  I've  a-been 
your  servant.  Sir  John,  for  twenty-two  year  come 
next  Martinmas;  and  you  know — or  else  you  ought 
to  know — that  for  your  good  opinion,  being  set  to 
it,  I  would  stand  awake  till  I  watched  out  every  eye 
in  my  head." 

My  father  crammed  down  the  ashes  in  his  pipe, 
and  glanced  back  at  the  sun,  now  dropping  into  the 
fold  of  the  glen  between  us  and  the  sea. 

261 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

"  I  will  give  you  another  chance,"  he  said. 
Thrice  that  night,  my  dreams  being  troubled,  I 
awoke  and  stretched  myself  to  see  Billy  pacing 
grimly  in  the  moonlight  between  us  and  the  gateway, 
tholing  his  penance.  I  know  not  what  aroused  me 
the  fourth  time;  some  sound  perhaps.  The  dawn 
was  breaking,  and,  half-lifted  on  my  elbow,  I  saw 
Billy,  his  musket  still  at  his  shoulder,  halt  by  the 
gateway  as  if  he,  too,  had  been  arrested  by  the  sound. 
After  a  moment  he  turned,  quite  casually,  and 
stepped  outside  the  gate  to  look. 

I  saw  him  step  outside.  I  was  but  half-awake,  and 
drowsily  my  eyes  closed  and  opened  again  with  a 
start,  expecting  to  see  him  back  at  his  sentry-go. 
He  had  not  returned. 

I  closed  my  eyes  again,  in  no  way  alarmed  as  yet. 
I  would  give  him  another  minute,  another  sixty  sec- 
onds. But  before  I  had  counted  thirty  my  ears 
caught  a  sound,  and  I  leapt  up,  wide  awake,  and 
touched  my  father's  shoulder. 

He  sat  up,  cast  a  glance  about  him,  and  sprang  to 
his  feet.     Together  we  ran  to  the  gateway. 

The  voice  I  had  heard  was  the  grunting  of  the 

hogs.    They  were  gathered  about  the  gateway  again, 

and,  as  before,  they  scampered  from  us  up  the  glade. 

But  of  Billy  Priske  there  was  no  sign  at  all. 

We  stared  at  each  other  and  rubbed  our  eyes;  we 

262 


WASTED    BY    ENCHANTMENT 

two,  left  alone  out  of  our  company  of  six.  Although 
the  sun  would  not  pierce  to  the  valley  for  another 
hour,  it  slanted  already  between  the  pine-stems  on 
the  ridge,  and  above  us  the  sky  was  light  with  an- 
other dav. 

And  again,  punctual  with  the  dawn,  over  the  ridge 
a  far  voice  broke  into  singing.  As  before,  it  came 
to  us  in  cadences  descending  to  a  long-drawn  refrain 
— Mortii,  mortu,  mortu! 

"Billy!     Billy  Priske!  "  we  called,  and  listened. 

"  Mortu,  mortu,  mortu!  "  sang  the  voice,  and  died 
away  behind  the  ridge. 

For  some  time  we  stood  and  heard  the  hogs  crash- 
ing their  way  through  the  undergrowth  at  the  head 
of  the  glade,  with  a  snapping  and  crackling  of  twigs, 
which  by  degrees  grew  fainter.  This,  too,  died  away ; 
and,  returning  to  our  camp,  we  sat  among  the  bag- 
gage and  stared  one  another  in  the  face,  questioning. 


263 


CHAPTER    XIV 

HOW    BY    MEANS    OF    HER    SWINE    I    CAME    TO    CIRCE 

So  saying,  I  took  my  way  up  from  the  ship  and  the  sea-shore. 
But  on  my  way,  as  I  drew  near  through  the  glades  to  the  home 
of  the  enchantress  Circe,  there  met  me  Hermes  with  his  golden 
rod,  in  semblance  of  a  lad  wearing  youth's  bloom  on  his  lip  and  all 
youth's  charm  at  its  heyday.  He  clasped  my  hand  and  spake 
and  greeted  me.  "Whither  away  now,  wretched  wight,  amid 
these  mountain-summits  alone  and  astray?  And  yonder  in  the 
styes  of  Circe,  transformed  to  swine,  thy  comrades  lie  penned  and 
make  their  lairs!" — Odyssey,  Bk.  x. 

"  Prosper/'  said  my  father  seriously,  "  we  must 
return  to  the  ship." 

"  I  suppose  SO,"  I  admitted ;  but  with  a  rising  tem- 
per, so  that  my  tone  contradicted  him. 

"  It  is  most  necessary.  We  are  no  longer  an  army, 
or  even  a  legation." 

"  Nothing  could  be  more  evident.  You  may  add, 
sir,  that  we  are  badly  scared,  the  both  of  us.  Yet 
I  don't  stomach  sailing  away,  at  any  rate  until  we 
have  discovered  what  has  happened  to  the  others." 
I  cast  a  vicious  glance  up  at  the  forest. 

"  Good  Lord,  child !  "  my  father  exclaimed. 
^'  Who  was  suggesting  it  ?  " 

264 


HOW    I    CAME    TO    CIECE 


« 


You  spoke  of  returning  to  the  ship." 

"  To  be  sure  I  did.  She  can  work  round  to  Ajaccio 
and  repair.  She  will  arrive  evidently  from  the  verge 
of  total  wreck,  an  ordinary  trader  in  ballast,  with 
nothing  suspicious  about  her.  No  questions  will  be 
asked  that  Pomerv  cannot  invent  an  answer  for  off- 
hand.  She  will  be  allowed  to  repair,  refit,  and  sail 
for  reinforcements." 

"  Reinforcements  ?  But  where  will  you  find  rein- 
forcements ?  " 

"  I  must  rely  on  Gervase  to  provide  them.  Mean- 
while we  have  work  on  hand.  To  begin  with,  we 
must  clear  up  this  mystery,  which  may  oblige  us  to 
camp  here  for  some  time." 

"  O— oh !  "  said  I. 

"  You  do  not  suggest,  I  hope,  that  we  can  abandon 
our  comrades,  whatever  has  befallen  them  ? " 

"  My  dear  father !  "  I  protested, 

"  Tut,  lad !  I  never  supposed  it  of  you.  Well, 
it  seems  to  me  we  are  more  likely  to  clear  up  the 
mystery  by  sitting  still  than  by  beating  the  woods. 
Do  you  agree  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  I,  "  we  may  spare  ourselves  the 
trouble  of  searching  for  it." 

"  I  propose  then,  as  our  fir.si  move,  that  wc  step 
down  to  the  ship  together  and  pack  Captain  Fernery 

off  to  Ajaccio  with  his  orders " 

265 


SIR    JOH^    CONSTANTINE 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,"  I  interrupted.  "  You  shall 
step  down  to  the  ship,  while  I  wait  here  and  guard 
the  camp." 

"  My  dear  Prosper,"  said  he,  "  I  like  the  spirit 
of  that  offer:  but  upon  my  word  I  hope  you  won't 
persist  in  it.  These  misadventures,  if  I  may  confess 
it,  get  me  on  the  raw,  and  I  cannot  leave  you  here 
alone  without  feeling  damnably  anxious." 

"  Trust  me,  sir,"  I  answered,  "  I  shall  be  at  least 
as  uncomfortable  until  vou  return.  But  I  have 
an  inkling  that — whatever  the  secret  may  be,  and 
whether  we  surprise  it  or  it  surprises  us — it  will  wait 
until  we  are  separated.  Moreover,  I  have  a  theory 
to  test.  So  far  every  man  has  disappeared  outside 
the  churchyard  here  and  somewhere  on  the  side  of 
the  forest.  The  camp  itself  has  been  safe  enough, 
and  so  have  the  meadow  and  the  path  down  to  the 
creek.  You  will  remember  that  Billy  was  roaming 
the  meadow  for  mushrooms  at  the  very  time  we  lost 
Mr.  Fett:  yet  Billy  came  to  no  harm.  To  be  sure 
the  enemy,  having  thinned  us  down  to  two,  may  ven- 
ture more  boldly ;  but  if  I  keep  the  camp  here  while 
you  take  the  path  down  to  the  creek,  and  nothing 
happens  to  either,  we  shall  be  narrowing  the  zone 
of  danger,  so  to  speak." 

My  father  nodded.  "  You  will  promise  me  not  to 
set  foot  outside  the  camp  ?  " 

266 


HOW    I    CAME    TO    CIRCE 


(C 


I  will  promise  more,"  said  I.  "  At  the  smallest 
warning  I  am  going  to  let  off  my  piece.  You  must 
not  be  annoyed  if  I  fetch  you  back  on  a  false  alarm 
or  even  an  absurd  one.  I  shall  sit  here  with  my 
musket  across  my  knees,  and  half  a  dozen  others,  all 
loaded,  close  around  me:  and  at  the  first  sign  of 
something  -\vrong — at  the  crackling  of  a  twig,  maybe 
— I  shall  fire.  You,  on  your  way  to  the  creek,  will 
keep  your  eyes  just  as  wide  open  and  fire  at  the  first 
hint  of  danger." 

"  I  don't  like  it,"  my  father  persisted. 

"  But  you  see  the  wisdom  of  it,"  said  I.  "  "We 
must  stay  here:  that's  agTced.  So  long  as  we  stay 
here  we  shall  be  desperately  uncomfortable,  fearing 
we  don't  know  what:  that  also  is  agreed.  Then,  say 
I,  for  God's  sake  let  us  clear  this  business  up  and 
get  it  over." 

My  father  nodded,  stood  up,  and  shouldered  his 
piece.  I  knew  that  his  eyes  were  on  me  and  avoided 
meeting  them,  afraid  for  a  moment  that  he  was  going 
to  say  something  in  praise  of  my  courage,  whereas 
in  truth  I  was  horribly  scared.  That  last  word  or  two 
had  really  expressed  my  terror.  I  desired  nothing 
but  to  get  the  whole  thing  over.  My  hand  shook  so 
as  I  turned  to  load  the  first  musket  that  I  had  twice 
to  shorten  my  grasp  of  the  ramrod  before  I  could  in- 
sert it  in  the  barrel. 

267 


SIR    JOHX    CONSTANTINE 

From  the  gateway  leading  to  the  lane  my  father 
watched  till  the  loading  was  done.  "  Good-bye  and 
good  luck,  lad !  "  said  he  and  turned  to  go.  A  pace 
or  two  beyond  the  gateway  he  halted  as  if  to  add 
a  word,  but  thought  better  of  it  and  resumed  his 
stride.  His  footsteps  sounded  hollow  between  the 
walls  of  the  narrow  lane.  Then  he  reached  the  turf 
of  the  meadow,  and  the  sound  ceased  suddenly. 

I  wanted — wanted  desperately — to  break  down 
and  run  after  him.  By  a  bodily  effort — something 
like  a  long  pull  on  a  rope — I  held  myself  steady  and 
braced  my  back  against  the  bole  of  the  ilex-tree  which 
I  had  chosen  because  it  gave  a  view  through  the  gate- 
way towards  the  forest.  Upon  this  opening  and  the 
glade  beyond  it  I  kept  my  eyes,  for  the  first  minute 
or  two  scarcely  venturing  to  wink,  only  relaxing  the 
strain  now  and  again  for  a  cautious  glance  to  right 
and  left  around  the  deserted  enclosure.  I  could  hear 
my  heart  working  like  a  pump. 

The  enclosure — indeed  the  whole  valley — lay 
deadly  silent  in  the  growing  heat  of  the  morning. 
On  the  hidden  summit  behind  the  wood  a  raven 
croaked ;  and  as  the  sun  mounted,  a  pair  of  buzzards, 
winging  their  way  to  the  mountains,  crossed  its 
glare  and  let  fall  a  momentary  trace  of  shadow  that 
touched  my  nerves  as  with  a  whip.  But  few  birds 
haunt  the  Corsican  bush,  and  to-day  even  these  woods 

268 


HOW    I    CAME    TO    CIRCE 

and  this  watered  valley  were  dumb  of  song.  Xo 
breeze  sent  a  shiver  through  the  grey  ilexes  or  the 
still  paler  olives  in  the  orchard  to  my  right.  On  the 
slope  the  chestnut-trees  massed  their  foliage  in  heavy 
plumes  of  green,  plume  upon  plume,  wave  upon 
wave,  a  still  cascade  of  verdure  held  between  jagged 
ridges  of  granite.  Here  and  there  the  granite  pushed 
a  bare  pinnacle  above  the  trees,  and  over  these  pin- 
nacles the  air  swam  and  quivered. 

The  minutes  dragged  by.  A  caterpillar  let  itself 
down  by  a  thread  from  the  end  of  the  bough  under 
which  I  sat,  in  a  direct  line  between  me  and  the 
gateway.  Very  slowly  while  I  watched  him  he  de- 
scended for  a  couple  of  feet,  swayed  a  little,  and  hung 
still,  as  if  irresolute.  A  butterfly,  after  hovering  for 
a  while  over  the  wall's  dry  coping,  left  it  and  flut- 
tered aimlessly  across  the  garth,  vanishing  at  length 
into  the  open  doorway  of  the  church. 

The  church  stood  about  thirty  paces  from  my  tree, 
and  by  turning  my  head  to  the  angle  of  my  right 
shoulder  I  looked  straight  into  its  porch.  It  struck 
me  that  from  the  shadow  within  it,  or  from  one  of 
the  narrow  windows,  a  marksman  could  make  an  easy 
target  of  me.  The  building  had  been  empty  over- 
night: no  one  (it  was  reasonable  to  suppose)  had  en- 
tered the  enclosure  during  Billy's  sentry-go;  no  one 
for  a  certainty  had  entered  it  since.     Xevertheless 

269 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

the  fancy  that  eyes  might  be  watching  me  from  with- 
in tlie  chnrch  began  now  to  worry,  and  within  five 
minutes  had  almost  worried  me  into  leaving  my  post 
to  explore. 

I  repressed  the  impulse.  I  could  not  carry  my 
stand  of  muskets  with  me,  and  to  leave  it  unguarded 
would  be  the  starkest  folly.  Also  I  had  sworn  to 
myself  to  keej)  watch  on  the  gateway  towards  the 
forest,  and  this  resolution  must  obviously  be  broken 
if  I  explored  the  church.  I  kept  my  seat,  telling 
myself  that  however  the  others  had  vanished  they  had 
vanished  in  silence,  and  therefore  all  danger  from 
gun-shot  might  be  ruled  out  of  the  reckoning. 

I  had  scarcely  calmed  myself  by  these  reflections 
when  a  noise  at  some  distance  up  the  glade  fetched 
my  musket  half-way  to  my  shoulder.  I  lowered  it 
with  a  short  laugh  of  relief  as  our  friends  the  hogs 
came  trotting  down-hill  to  the  gateway. 

For  the  moment  I  was  glad;  on  second  thoughts, 
vexed.  They  explained  the  noise  and  eased  my  im- 
mediate fear.  They  brought  back — absurd  as  it  may 
sound — a  sense  of  companionship :  for  although  half- 
wild,  they  showed  a  disposition  to  be  sociable,  and 
we  had  found  that  a  wave  of  the  arm  sufficed  to  drive 
them  off  when  their  advances  became  embarrassing. 
On  the  other  hand  they  would  certainly  distract  some 
attention  which  I  could  very  ill  afford  to  spare. 

270 


HOW    I    CAME    TO    CIRCE 

But  again  I  calmed  myself,  reflecting  that  if  any 
clanger  lurked  close  at  hand,  these  friendly  nuisances 
might  give  me  some  clue  to  it  by  their  movements. 
They  came  trotting  down  to  the  entrance,  halted,  and 
regarded  me,  pushing  up  their  snouts  and  grunting 
as  though  uncertain  of  their  welcome.  Apparently 
reassured,  they  charged  through,  as  hogs  will,  in 
a  disorderly  mob,  rubbing  their  lean  flanks  against 
the  gateposts,  each  seeming  to  protest  with  squeals 
against  the  crush  to  which  he  contributed. 

One  or  two  of  the  boldest  came  running  towards 
me  in  the  hope  of  being  fed ;  but,  seeing  that  I  made 
no  motion,  swerved  as  though  their  courage  failed 
them  and  stood  regarding  me  sideways  with  their 
grotesque  little  eyes.  Finding  me  still  unresponsive, 
they  began 'to  nose  in  the  dried  grasses  with  an  af- 
fected unconcern  which  set  me  smiling,  it  seemed  so 
humanlike  a  pretence  under  rebuff.  The  rest,  as 
usual,  dispersed  under  the  trees  and  along  the  nettle- 
beds  by  the  wall.  It  occurred  to  me  that,  if  I  let 
these  gentlemen  work  round  to  my  rear,  they  might 
distract  my  attention — perhaps  at  an  awkward  mo- 
ment— by  nosing  up  to  the  forage-bags  or  upsetting 
the  camp  furniture,  so  with  a  wave  of  my  musket 
I  headed  them  back.  Thev  took  the  hint  obedientlv 
enough  and,  wheeling  about,  fell  to  rooting  between 
me  and  the  entrance.     So  I  sat  mavbe  for  another 

271 


SIR    JOHX    COXSTAXTIXE 

five  minutes,  still  keeping  my  main  attention  on  the 
gateway,  but  with  an  occasional  glance  to  right  and 
left,  to  detect  and  warn  back  any  fresh  attempt  to 
work  round  my  flanks. 

Xow  in  the  act  of  waving  my  musket  I  had  hap- 
pened to  catch  sight  of  one  remarkably  fine  hog 
among  the  nettles,  who^  taking  alarm  with  the  rest, 
had  winced  away  and  disappeared  in  the  rear  of  the 
church,  w^here  a  narrow  alley  ran  between  it  and  the 
churchyard  wall.  If  he  followed  this  alley  to  its 
end,  he  would  come  into  sight  again  around  the  apse 
and  almost  directly  on  my  right  flank.  I  kept  my 
eye  lifting  towards  this  corner  of  the  building,  wait- 
ing for  him  to  reappear,  which  by  and  by  he  did,  and 
with  a  truly  porcine  air  of  minding  his  own  business 
and  that  only. 

His  unconcern  was  so  admirably  affected  that,  to 
test  it,  instead  of  waving  him  back  I  lifted  my  mus- 
ket very  quietly,  almost  without  shifting  my  position, 
and  brought  the  butt  against  my  shoulder. 

He  saw  the  movement;  for  at  once,  even  with  his 
head  down  in  the  grasses,  he  hesitated  and  came  to 
a  full  stop.  Suddenly  as  my  fingers  felt  for  the 
trigger-guard  my  heart  began  to  beat  like  a  hammer. 

There  lay  my  danger;  and  in  a  flash  I  knew  it, 
but  not  the  extent  of  it.  This  was  no  hog,  but  a 
man;   by  the  start  and  the  quick-arrested  pose  in 

272 


HOW    I    CAME    TO    CIRCE 

which  the  brute  faced  me,  still  with  his  head  low 
and  his  eyes  regarding  me  from  the  grasses,  I  felt 
sure  of  him.  But  what  of  the  others  ?  Were  they 
also  men?  If  so,  I  was  certainly  lost,  but  I  dared 
not  turn  my  eyes  for  a  glance  at  them.  \\"ith  a  sud- 
den and  most  natural  grunt  the  brute  backed  a  little, 
shook  his  head  in  disgust,  and  sidled  towards  the 
angle  of  the  building.  ''  Xow  or  never,"  thought  I, 
and  pulled  the  trigger. 

As  the  musket  kicked  against  me  I  felt — I  could 
not  see — the  rest  of  the  hogs  swerve  in  a  common 
panic  and  break  for  the  gateway.  Their  squealing 
took  up  the  roar  of  the  report  and  protracted  it. 
They  were  real  hogs,  then. 

I  caught  up  a  second  musket  and,  to  make  sure, 
let  fly  into  the  mass  of  them  as  they  choked  the 
gateway.  Then,  without  waiting  to  see  the  effect  of 
this  shot,  I  snatched  musket  number  three,  and  ran 
through  the  drifting  smoke  to  where  my  first  victim 
lay  face-downwards  in  the  grasses,  his  swine's  mask 
bowed  upon  the  forelegs  crossed — as  a  man  crosses 
his  arms — inwards  from  the  elbow.  As  I  ran  he 
lifted  himself  in  agony  on  his  knees — a  man's  knees. 
I  saw  a  man's  hand  thrust  through  the  paunch,  rij>- 
ping  it  asunder;  and,  struggling  so,  he  rolled  slowly 
over  upon  his  back  and  lay  still.  I  stooped  and  tore 
the  mask  away.     A  black-avised  face  stared  up  at 

273 


SIR    JOHN    COXSTAXTIXE 

me,  livid  beneath  its  sunburn,  with  fihned  eyes.  The 
eyes  stared  at  me  unwinking  as  I  slipped  his  other 
hand  easily  out  of  its  case,  which,  even  at  close  view, 
marvellously  resembled  the  cleft,  narrow  hoof  of  a 
hog.  I  could  not  disengage  him  further,  his  feet 
being  strapped  into  the  disguise  with  tight  leathern 
thongs;  but,  having  satisfied  myself  that  he  was  past 
help,  I  turned  on  a  quick  thought  to  the  gateway 
again,  and  ran. 

A  second  hog — a  real  hog — lay  stretched  there  on 
its  side,  dead  as  a  nail.  Its  companions,  scampering 
in  panic,  had  by  this  time  almost  reached  the  head 
of  the  glade.  Forgetting  my  promise  to  my  father, 
I  started  in  pursuit.  The  thought  in  my  mind  was 
that,  if  I  kept  them  in  sight,  they  would  lead  me  to 
my  comrades;  a  chance  unlikely  to  return. 

The  glade  ran  up  between  two  contracting  spurs 
of  the  hill.  As  I  climbed,  the  belt  of  woodland  nar- 
rowed on  either  side  of  the  track,  until  the  side-valley 
ended  in  a  cross  ridge  where  the  chestnuts  suddenly 
gave  place  to  pines  and  the  turf  to  a  rocky  soil  car- 
peted with  pine-needles.  Here,  in  the  spaces  between 
the  tree-trunks,  I  caught  my  last  glimpse  of  the  hogs 
as  two  or  three  of  the  slowest  ran  over  the  ridge  and 
disappeared.  I  followed,  sure  of  getting  sight  of 
them  from  the  summit.  But  here  I  found  myself 
tricked.     Beyond  the  ridge  lay  a  short  dip — short, 

274 


TlOW    I    CAME    TO    CIRCE 

that  is,  as  a  bird  flies.  Not  more  than  fifty  yards 
ahead  the  slope  rose  again,  strewn  with  granite  boul- 
ders and  piled  masses  of  granite  such  as  in  Cornwall 
we  call  '^  tors  "  ;  and  clear  aw-ay  to  the  mountain  tops 
stretched  a  view  with  never  a  tree,  but  a  few  out- 
standing bushes  only.  Yet  from  ridge  to  ridge  green 
vegetation  filled  every  hollow,  and  in  the  hollow  be- 
tween me  and  the  nearest  the  hogs  were  lost. 

I  heard,  however,  their  grunting  and  the  snap- 
ping of  boughs  in  the  undergrowth :  and  in  that  clear 
delusive  air  it  seemed  but  three  minutes'  work  to 
reach  the  next  ridge.  I  followed  then,  confidently 
enough — and  made  my  first  acquaintance  with  the 
Corsican  macchia  by  plunging  into  a  cleft  twenty 
feet  deep  between  two  rocks  of  granite.  I  did  not 
actually  fall  more  than  a  third  of  the  distance,  for 
I  saved  myself  by  clutching  at  a  clematis  which  laced 
its  coils,  thick  as  a  man's  wrist,  across  the  cleft.  But 
I  know  that  the  hole  cannot  have  been  less  than 
twenty  feet  deep,  for  I  had  to  descend  to  the  bottom 
of  it  to  recover  mv  musket. 

That  fall  committed  me,  too.  Within  five  min- 
utes of  my  first  introduction  to  the  macchia  I  had 
learnt  how  easily  a  man  may  be  lost  in  it;  and  in 
less  than  half  of  five  minutes  I  had  lost  not  only 
my  way  but  my  temper.  To  pursue  after  the  hogs 
was  nearly  hopeless:  all  sound  of  them  was  swal- 

275 


Sm   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

lowed  up  in  the  tangle  of  scrub.  Yet  I  held  on, 
crawling  through  thickets  of  lentisk,  tangling  my  legs 
in  creepers,  pushing  my  head  into  clumps  of  cactus, 
here  tearing  my  hands  and  boots  on  sharp  granite, 
there  ripping  my  clothes  on  prickly  thorns.  Once  I 
found  what  appeared  to  be  a  goat-track.  It  led  to 
another  cleft  of  rock  where,  beating  down  the  briers, 
I  looked  down  a  chasm  which  ended,  thirty  feet 
below,  in  a  whole  brake  of  cacti.  The  scent  of  the 
crushed  plants  was  divine :  and  I  crushed  a  plenty  of 
them. 

After  a  struggle  which  must  have  lasted  from 
twenty  minutes  to  half  an  hour  I  gained  the  ridge 
which  had  seemed  but  three  minutes  away,  and  there 
sat  down  to  a  silent  lesson  in  geography.  I  had 
given  up  all  hope  of  following  the  hogs  or  discover- 
ing my  comrades.  I  knew  now  what  it  means  to 
search  for  a  needle  in  a  bottle  of  hay,  but  with  many 
prickles  I  had  gathered  some  wisdom  and  learnt 
that,  whether  I  decided  to  go  forward  or  to  retreat, 
I  must  survey  the  macchia  before  attempting  it 
again. 

To  go  forward  without  a  clue  would  be  folly,  as 
well  as  unfair  to  my  father,  whom  my  two  shots  must 
have  alarmed.  I  decided  therefore  to  retreat,  but 
first  to  mount  a  craggy  pile  of  granite  some  fifty 
yards  on  my  left,  which  would  give  me  not  only  a 

276 


HOW    I   CAME    TO    CIRCE 

better  survey  of  the  bush  but  perhaps  even  a  view 
over  the  tree- tops  and  down  upon  the  bay  where  the 
Gauntlet  lay  at  anchor.  Tf  so,  by  the  movements  on 
board  I  might  learn  whether  or  not  my  father  had 
reached  her  with  his  commands  before  taking  my 
alarm. 

The  crags  were  not  easy  to  climb:  but,  having 
hitched  the  musket  in  my  bandolier,  I  could  use  both 
hands,  and  so  pulled  myself  up  by  the  creepers  which 
festooned  the  rock  here  and  there  in  swags  as  thick 
as  the  Gauntlet's  hawser.  Disappointment  met  me 
on  the  summit.  The  trees  allowed  me  but  sight  of 
the  blue  horizon;  thev  still  hid  the  shores  of  the 
bay  and  our  anchorage.  My  eminence,  however, 
showed  me  a  track,  fairly  well  defined,  crossing  the 
macchla  and  leading  back  to  the  wood. 

I  was  conning  this  when  a  shout  in  my  rear 
fetched  me  right-about  face.  Towards  me,  down  and 
across  the  farther  ridge,  I  saw  a  man  running — !N^at 
Fiennes ! 

He  had  caught  sight  of  me  on  my  rock  against  the 
sky-line,  and  as  he  ran  he  waved  his  arms  frantically, 
motioning  to  me  to  rim  also  for  the  woods.  I  could 
see  no  pursuer;  but  still,  as  he  came  on,  his  arms 
waved,  and  were  waving  yet  when  a  bush  on  the 
chine  above  him  threw  out  a  little  puff  of  grey 
smoke.     Toppling  headlong  into  the  bushes,  he  was 

277 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

lost  to  me  even  before  the  report  rang  on  my  ears 
across  the  hollow. 

I  dropped  on  my  knees  for  a  grip  on  the  creepers, 
swung  myself  down  the  face  of  the  crag,  and  within 
ten  seconds  was  lost  in  the  macchia  again,  fighting 
my  way  through  it  to  the  spot  where  Nat  lay.  Wher- 
ever the  scrub  parted  and  allowed  me  a  glimpse  I 
kept  my  eye  on  the  bush  above  the  chine ;  and  so 
with  torn  clothes  and  face  and  hands  bleeding, 
crossed  the  dip,  mounted  the  slope,  and  emerged  upon 
a  ferny  hollow  ringed  about  on  three  sides  with  the 
macchia.  There  face-downward  in  the  fern  lay  Nat, 
shot  through  the  lungs. 

I  lifted  him  against  one  knee.  His  eyelids  flick- 
ered and  his  lips  moved  to  speak,  but  a  rush  of 
blood  choked  him.  Still  resting  him  against  my  knee, 
I  felt  behind  me  for  my  musket.  The  flint  was  gone 
from  the  lock,  dislodged  no  doubt  by  a  blow  against 
the  crags.  With  one  hand  I  groped  on  the  ground 
for  a  stone  to  replace  it.  My  fingers  found  only  a 
tangle  of  dry  fern,  and,  glancing  up  at  the  ridge,  I 
stared  straight  along  the  barrel  of  a  musket.  At  the 
same  moment  a  second  barrel  glimmered  out  between 
the  bushes  on  my  left.  "  Signore,  favorisca  di  ren- 
dersi,"  said  a  voice,  very  quiet  and  polite.  I  stared 
around  me,  hopeless,  at  bay:  and  while  I  stared  and 
clutched  my  useless  gun,  from  behind  a  rock  some 

278 


now    I    CAME    TO    CmCE 

twenty  paces  up  the  slope  a  girl  stepped  forward, 
halted,  rested  the  butt  of  her  musket  on  the  stone, 
and,  crossing  her  hands  above  the  nozzle  of  it,  calmly 
regarded  us. 

Even  in  my  rage  her  extraordinary  wild  beauty 
held  me  at  gaze  for  a  moment.  She  wore  over  a  loose 
white  shirt  a  short  waist-tunic  of  faded  green  velvet, 
with  a  petticoat  or  kilt  of  the  same  reaching  a  little 
below  her  knees,  from  which  to  the  ankles  her  legs 
were  cased  in  tight-fitting  leathern  gaiters.  Her 
stout  boots  shone  with  toe-plates  of  silver  or  polished 
steel.  A  sad-coloured  handkerchief  protected  her 
head,  its  edge  drawn  straight  across  her  brow  in 
a  fashion  that  would  have  disfigured  ninety-nine 
women  in  a  hundred.  But  no  head-dress  availed  to 
disfigure  that  brow  or  the  young  imperious  eyes  be- 
neath it.  "  Are  you  a  friend  of  this  man  ?  "  she 
asked  in  Italian. 

"  He  is  my  best  friend,"  I  answered  her  in  the 
same  language.     "  Why  have  you  done  this  to  him  ?  " 

She  seemed  to  consider  for  a  moment,  thought- 
fully, without  pity. 

"  I  can  talk  to  you  in  French  if  you  find  it  easier," 
she  said  after  a  pause. 

"  You  may  use  Italian,"  I  answered  angrily.  "  I 
can  understand  it  more  easily  than  you  will  use  it 
to  explain  why  you  have  done  this  wickedness." 

279 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

"  He  was  very  foolish,"  she  said.  "  He  tried  to 
run  away.  And  you  were  all  very  foolish  to  come  as 
you  did.  We  saw  your  ship  while  you  were  yet  four 
leagues  at  sea.     How  have  you  come  here  ?  " 

"  I  came  here,"  answered  I,  "  being  led  by  your 
hogs,  and  after  shooting  an  assassin  in  disguise  of 
a  hog." 

"  You  have  killed  Giuseppe  ?  " 

"  I  did  my  best,"  said  I,  turning  and  addressing 
myself  to  three  Corsicans  who  had  stepped  from  the 
bushes  around  me.  "  But  whatever  your  purpose 
may  be,  you  have  shot  my  friend  here,  and  he  is 
dying.  If  you  have  hearts,  deal  tenderly  with  him, 
and  afterwards  we  can  talk." 

"  He  says  well,"  said  the  girl  slowly,  and  nodded 
to  the  three  men.  "  Lift  him  and  bring  him  to  the 
camp."  She  turned  to  me.  "  You  will  not  resist  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"  I  will  go  with  my  friend,"  said  I. 

"  That  is  good.  You  may  walk  behind  me,"  she 
said,  turning  on  her  heel.  "  I  am  glad  to  have  met 
one  who  talks  in  Italian,  for  the  rest  of  your  friends 
can  only  chatter  in  English,  a  tongue  which  I  do 
not  understand.  Step  close  behind  me,  please;  for 
the  way  is  narrow.     For  what  are  you  waiting  ?  " 

"  To  see  that  my  friend  is  tenderly  handled,"  I 
answered. 

280 


now    1    CAME    TO    CIRCE 

"  He  is  past  helping,"  said  she  carelessly.  "  He 
behaved  foolishly.  You  did  not  stop  for  Giuseppe, 
did  you  ?  " 

"  I  did  not." 

"  I  am  not  blaming  you,"  said  she,  and  led  the 

way. 


281 


CHAPTER    XV 

I    BECOME    HOSTAGE    TO    THE    PRINCESS    CAMILLA 

Silvis  te,  Tyrrhene,  feras  agitare  putasti? 

Advenit  qui  vestra  dies  muliebribus  armis 

Verba  redarguerit. 

— Virgil,  Mneid,  xi. 

Ahead  of  us,  beyond  the  rises  and  hollows  of  the 
macchia,  rose  a  bare  mountain  summit,  not  very  tall, 
the  ascent  to  it  broken  by  granite  ledges,  so  that  from 
a  distance  it  almost  appeared  to  be  terraced.  On  a 
heathery  slope  at  the  foot  of  the  first  terrace  the 
Corsicans  set  down  poor  Xat  and  spoke  a  word  to 
their  mistress,  who  presently  halted  and  exchanged 
a  few  sentences  with  them  in  patois ;  whereupon  they 
stepped  back  a  few  paces  into  the  macchia,  and,  hav- 
ing quickly  cut  a  couple  of  ilex-staves,  fell  to 
plaiting  them  with  lentisk,  to  form  a  litter. 

While  this  was  doing  I  stepped  back  to  my 
friend's  side.  His  eyes  were  closed ;  but  he  breathed 
yet,  and  his  pulse,  though  faint,  was  perceptible.  A 
little  blood — a  very  little — trickled  from  the  corner 
of  his  mouth.  I  glanced  at  the  girl,  who  had  drawn 
near  and  stood  close  at  my  elbow. 

282 


HOSTAGE    TO    THE    PRINCESS 

"  Have  you  a  surgeon  in  your  camp  ?  "  I  asked. 
"  I  believe  that  a  surgeon  might  save  him  yet." 

She  shook  her  head.  I  could  detect  no  pity  in 
her  eyes ;  only  a  touch  of  curiosity,  half  haughty  and 
in  part  sullen.  "  I  doubt,"  she  answered,  "  if  you 
will  find  a  surgeon  in  all  Corsica.  I  do  not  believe 
in  surgeons." 

"  Then,"  said  I,  "  you  have  not  lived  always  in 
Corsica." 

Her  face  flushed  darkly,  even  while  the  disdain  in 
her  eyes  grew  colder,  more  guarded. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Why,"  said  I,  "  you  are  not  one,  I  believe,  to 
speak  so  positively  in  mere  ignorance.  But  see !  " 
I  went  on,  pointing  down  upon  the  bay  over  which 
this  higher  slope  gave  us  a  clear  view,  "  there  goes 
the  ship  that  brought  us  here." 

She  gazed  at  it  for  a  while,  with  bent  brow,  evi- 
dently puzzled. 

"  No,"  said  I,  watching  her,  ''  I  shall  not  tell  you 
yet  why  she  goes,  nor  where  her  port  lies.  But  I 
have  something  to  propose  to  you." 

"  Say  it." 

"  It  leaves  one  man  behind,  and  one  only,  in  our 
camp  below.  He  is  my  father,  and  he  has  some 
knowledge  of  surgery;  I  believe  he  could  save  my 
friend  here." 

283 


SIK    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

She  stood  considering.  "  So  much  was  known  to 
me/'  she  answered  at  length ;  "  that,  after  you,  there 
would  be  but  one  left.  Three  of  my  men  have  gone 
down  to  take  him.    He  will  be  here  before  long." 

"  But,  pardon  me — for  as  yet  I  know  not  whether 
your  aim  is  to  kill  us  or  take  us  alive " 

She  interrupted  me  with  a  slight  shrug  of  her 
shoulders.  "  I  have  no  wish  to  kill  you.  But  I  must 
know  what  brings  you  here,  and  the  rest  can  talk 
nothing  but  English.  As  for  this  one  " — with  a 
gesture  of  the  hand  towards  Nat — "  he  was  foolish. 
He  tried  to  run  away  and  warn  you." 

"  Then,  signorina,  let  me  promise,  who  know  my 
father,  that  you  will  not  take  him  alive." 

"  I  have  sent  three  men." 

"  You  had  done  better  to  send  thirty ;  but  even 
so  you  will  not  succeed." 

"  I  have  heard  tell/'  she  said,  again  with  a  little 
movement  of  her  shoulders,  "  that  all  Englishmen 
are  mad." 

I  laughed;  and  this  laugh  of  mine  had  a  singular 
effect  on  her.  She  drew  back  and  looked  at  me  for 
an  instant  with  startled  eyes,  as  though  she  had  never 
heard  laughter  in  her  life  before,  or  else  had  heard 
too  much.     "  Tell  me  what  you  propose,"  she  said. 

"  I  propose  to  send  down  a  message  to  my  father, 
and  one  of  your  men  shall  carry  it  with  a  white 

284 


HOSTAGE    TO    THE    PRINCESS 

flag  (for  that  he  shall  have  the  loan  of  my  handker- 
chief). I  will  write  in  Italian,  that  you  may  read 
and  know  what  I  say." 

"  It  is  unnecessary." 

"  I  thank  you."  I  found  in  my  pockets  the  stump 
of  a  pencil  and  a  scrap  of  paper — an  old  Oxford  bill 
— and  wrote: 

Dear  Father, — We  are  prisoners,  and  Nat  is  wounded, 
but  whether  past  help  or  not  I  cannot  say.  I  believe  you 
might  do  something  for  him.  If  it  suit  your  plans,  the 
bearer  will  give  you  safe-conduct:  if  not,  I  remain  your 
obedient  son  Prosper. 

I  translated  this  for  her,  and  folded  the  paper. 

"  Marc'antonio !  "  she  called  to  one  of  the  three 
men,  who  by  this  time  had  finished  plaiting  the 
litter  and  were  strewing  it  with  fern. 

Marc'antonio — a  lean,  slight  fellow  with  an  old 
scar  on  his  cheek — stepped  forward  at  once.  She 
gave  him  my  note  and  handkerchief  with  instructions 
to  hurry. 

"  Excuse  me,  principessa  " — he  hesitated,  with  a 
glance  at  me  and  another  at  his  comrades — "  but 
these  two,  with  the  litter,  will  have  their  hands  full ; 
and  this  prisoner  is  a  strong  one  and  artful.  Has 
he  not  already  slain  '1  Verro  ?  " 

"  You  will  mind  your  own  business,  Marc'antonio, 
which  is  to  run  as  I  tell  you." 

285 


SIR    JOH^^    COXSTxVNTIXE 

The  man  turned  without  another  word,  but  with 
a  last  distrustful  look,  and  plunged  do\vn-hill  into  the 
scrub.  The  girl  made  a  careless  sign  to  the  others 
to  lay  ISTat  on  his  litter  and,  turning,  led  the  way 
up  the  rocky  front  of  the  summit,  presenting  her  back 
to  me,  choosing  the  path  which  offered  fewest  im- 
pediments to  the  litter-bearers  in  our  rear. 

The  sun  was  now  high  overhead,  and  beat  torridly 
upon  the  granite  crags,  which,  as  I  clutched  them, 
blistered  my  hands.  The  girl  and  the  two  men 
(in  spite  of  their  burden)  balanced  themselves  and 
sprang  from  foothold  to  foothold  with  an  ease  which 
shamed  me.  For  a  while  I  supposed  that  we  were 
making  for  the  actual  summit;  but  on  the  second 
terrace  my  captress  bore  away  to  the  left  and  led 
us  by  a  track  that  slanted  across  the  northern  shoul- 
der of  the  ridge.  A  sentry  started  to  his  feet  and 
stepped  from  behind  a  clump  of  arid  sage-coloured 
bushes,  stood  for  a  moment  with  the  sun  glinting 
on  his  gun-barrel,  and  at  a  sign  from  the  girl 
dropped  back  upon  his  post.  Just  then,  or  a  mo- 
ment later,  my  ears  caught  the  jigging  notes  of  a 
flute;  whereby  I  knew  Mr.  Badcock  to  be  close 
at  hand,  for  it  was  discoursing  the  tune  of  "  The 
Yicar  of  Bray  "  ! 

Sure  enough  as  we  rounded  the  slope  we  came 
upon  him,  Mr.  Fett,  and  Billy  Priske,  the  trio  seated 

2SG 


HOSTAGE    TO    THE    PRINCESS 

within  a  semicircle  of  admiring  Corsicans  and  above 
a  scene  so  marvellous  that  I  caught  my  breath.  The 
slope,  breaking  away  to  north  and  east,  descended 
sheer  upon  a  vast  amphitheatre  filled  with  green  acres 
of  pine  forest  and  pent  within  walls  of  porphyry  that 
rose  in  tower  upon  tower,  pinnacle  upon  pinnacle, 
beyond  and  above  the  tree-tops ;  and  these  pillars,  as 
they  soared  out  of  the  gulf,  seemed  to  shake  off  with 
difficulty  the  forest  that  climbed  after  them,  holding 
by  every  nook  and  ledge  in  their  riven  sides — here  a 
dark-foliaged  clump  caught  in  a  chasm,  there  a  soli- 
tary trunk  bleached  and  dead  but  still  hanging  by 
a  last  grip. 

On  the  edge  of  this  green  cauldron  the  Corsicans 
and  my  comrades  sat  like  so  many  witches,  their 
figures  magnified  uncannily  against  the  void;  and 
far  beyond,  above  the  rose-coloured  crags,  deep-set  in 
miles  of  transparent  blue,  shone  the  snow-covered 
central  peaks  of  the  island. 

As  I  rounded  the  corner  Mr.  Fett  hailed  me  with 
a  shout  and  a  vocal  imitation  of  a  post-horn. 

"  Another !  "  he  cried,  and  slapped  his  thigh 
triumphantly.  "  Another  blossom  added  to  the  posy ! 
Badcock,  my  flosculet,  you  owe  me  five  shillings. 
Permit  me  to  explain,  sir  " — he  turned  to  me — "  that 
Mr.  Badcock  has  been  staking  upon  an  anthology,  I 
upon  the  full  basket  and  the  whole  hog.     It  is  cut 

287 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

and  come  again  with  these  Corsicans;  and,  talking 
of  hogs " 

His  chatter  tailed  off  in  a  pitiful  exclamation  as 
the  litter-carriers  came  around  the  angle  of  the  ridge 
with  Nat's  body  between  them. 

"'  Poor  lad !  Ah,  poor  lad !  "  I  heard  Billy  say. 
Mr.  Badcock  nervously  disjointed  his  flute.  "  I 
warned  him,  sir.  Believe  me,  my  last  words  were 
that,  being  in  Rome,  so  to  speak,  he  should  do  as 
the  Romans  did " 

"  There  is  one  more,"  announced  the  girl  to  her  Cor- 
sicans, "and  I  have  sent  for  him.  He  will  come  under 
conduct;  and,  meanwhile,  I  have  to  say  that  any  man 
who  offers  to  harm  this  prisoner,  here,  will  be  shot." 

"  But  why  should  we  harm  him,  principessa  ?  " 
they  asked ;  and,  indeed,  I  felt  inclined  to  echo  their 
question,  seeing  that  she  pointed  at  me. 

"  Because  he  has  killed  Giuseppe?  "  she  answered 
simply. 

"  Giuseppe  ?  He  has  slain  Giuseppe  ?  "  The  sim- 
ultaneous cry  went  up  in  a  wail,  and  by  impulse  the 
hand  of  each  one  moved  to  his  knife. 

"  Your  pardon,  principessa — "  began  one  black- 
avised  bandit,  dropping  the  haft  of  his  knife  and 
feeling  for  the  gun  at  his  back. 

She  waved  him  aside  and  turned  to  me.  "  I 
should  warn  you,  sir,  that  we  are  of  one  clan  here, 

288 


HOSTAGE    TO    THE    PRINCESS 

though  I  may  not  tell  you  our  name ;  and  against  the 
slayer  of  one  it  is  vendetta  with  us  all.  But  I  spare 
you  until  your  father  arrives." 

"  I  thank  you,"  answered  I,  feeling  blue,  but 
fetching  up  my  best  bow.  Here  was  a  pleasant  pros- 
pect !  "  I  only  beg  to  observe  that  I  killed  this  man 
— if  I  have  killed  him — in  self-defence,"  I  added. 

"  Do  you  wish  me  to  repeat  that  as  your  plea  ?  " 
she  asked,  half  in  scorn. 

"  I  do  not,"  said  I  with  a  sudden  rush  of  anger. 
"  Moreover,  I  dare  say  that  these  savages  of  yours 
would  see  no  distinction." 

"  You  are  right,"  she  replied  carelessly,  "  they 
would  see  no  distinction." 

"  But  excuse  me,  principessa,"  persisted  the  scowl- 
ing man,  "  a  feud  is  a  feud,  and  if  he  has  slain  our 
Giuse " 

"  Attend  to  me,  sir,"  I  broke  in.  "  Your  Giuseppe 
came  at  me  like  a  hog,  and  I  gave  him  his  deserts. 
For  the  rest,  if  you  move  your  hand  another  inch 
towards  that  gun  I  will  knock  your  brains  out."  I 
clubbed  my  musket  ready  to  strike. 

"  Gently,  sir !  "  interposed  the  girl.  "  This  is 
folly,  as  you  must  see." 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders.  "  You  will  allow  me, 
Princess.  If  it  come  to  vendetta,  you  have  slain  my 
friend." 

289 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

She  gave  her  back  to  me  and  faced  the  ring.  "  I 
tell  vou/'  she  said,  "  that  Giuseppe's  death  rests 
on  the  prisoner's  word  alone.  Marc'antonio  and 
Stephanu  have  gone  down  and  will  bring  us  the  truth 
of  it.  Meanwhile  I  say  that  this  one  is  our  prisoner, 
like  as  the  others.  Give  him  room  and  let  him  wait 
by  his  friend.  Does  any  one  say  '  nay  '  to  that?  " 
she  demanded. 

The  scowling  man,  with  a  glance  at  his  comrades' 
faces,  gave  way.  I  could  not  have  told  why,  but  from 
the  start  of  the  dispute  I  felt  that  this  girl  held 
her  bandits,  or  whatever  they  were,  in  imperfect 
obedience.  They  obeyed  her,  yet  with  reserve. 
When  pressed  to  the  point  between  submission  and 
mutiny,  they  yielded;  but  they  yielded  with  a  con- 
sent which  I  could  not  reconcile  with  submission. 
Even  whilst  answering  deferentially  they  appeared  to 
be  looking  at  one  another  and  taking  a  cue. 

For  the  time,  however,  she  had  prevailed  with 
them.  They  stood  aside  while  Billy  and  I  lifted  the 
litter  and  bore  it  to  the  shade  of  an  overhanging  rock. 
One  even  fetched  me  a  panful  of  water  which  he 
had  collected  from  a  trickling  spring  on  the  face  of 
the  cliffs  hard  by,  and  brought  me  linen,  too,  when 
he  saw  me  preparing  to  tear  up  my  own  shirt  to  bind 
Nat's  wound. 

We  could  not  trace  the  course  of  the  bullet,  and 

290 


HOSTAGE    TO    THE    PRINCESS 

judged  it  best  to  spare  meddling  with  a  hurt  we 
could  not  help.  So,  having  bathed  away  the  clotted 
blood  and  bandaged  him,  we  strewed  a  fresh  bed  of 
fern  and  watched  by  him,  moistening  his  lips  from 
time  to  time  with  water,  for  which  he  moaned.  The 
sun  began  to  sink  on  the  far  side  of  the  mountain, 
and  the  shadow  of  the  summit,  falling  into  the  deep 
gulf  at  our  feet,  to  creep  across  the  green  tree-tops 
massed  there.  While  it  crept  and  I  watched  it,  Billy 
related  in  whispers  how  he  had  been  sprung  upon 
and  gagged,  so  swiftly  that  he  had  no  chance  to  cry 
alarm  or  to  feel  for  the  trigger  of  his  musket.  He 
rubbed  his  hands  delightedly  when  in  return  I  told 
the  story  of  my  lucky  shot.  In  his  ignorance  of 
Italian  he  had  caught  no  inkling  of  the  peril  that 
lucky  shot  had  brought  upon  me,  nor  did  I  for  the 
moment  choose  to  enlighten  him. 

The  shadow  of  the  mountain  was  stretching  more 
than  half-way  across  the  valley,  and  in  the  slanting 
light  the  rosy  tinge  of  the  crags  appeared  to  be  melt- 
ing and  suffusing  the  snow-peaks  beyond,  when  my 
father  w^alked  into  the  camp  unannounced.  He  car- 
ried a  gun  and  a  folding  camp-stool,  and  was  fol- 
lowed by  Marc'antonio,  who  fluttered  my  white  hand- 
kerchief from  the  ramrod  of  his  musket. 

"  Good  afternoon,  gentlemen !  "  said  he,  lifting  his 
hat  and  looking  about  him. 

291 


SIK    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

I  could  see  at  a  glance  that  his  stature  and  bearing 
impressed  the  Corsicans  mightily.  They  drew  back 
for  a  moment,  then  pressed  around  him  like  children. 

"  Mbe !  E  bellu,  il  Inglese,"  I  heard  one  say  to 
his  fellow. 

After  quelling  the  brief  tumult  against  me,  and 
while  I  busied  myself  with  l^at,  the  girl  had  disap- 
peared— I  could  not  tell  whither.  But  now  one  of 
the  band  ran  up  the  slope  calling  loudly  to  summon 
her.  "  O  principessa,  ajo,  ajo !  Veni  qui,  ajo !  " 
and,  gazing  after  him,  I  saw  her  at  the  entrance  of  a 
cave  some  fifty  feet  above  us,  erect,  with  either  hand 
parting  and  holding  back  the  creepers  that  curtained 
her  bower. 

She  let  the  curtains  fall-to  behind  her,  and,  step- 
ping down  the  hillside,  welcomed  my  father  with  the 
gravest  of  curtsies. 

"  Salutation,  O  stranger !  " 

"  And  to  you,  O  lady,  salutation !  "  my  father 
made  answer  with  a  bow.  "  Though  English,"  he 
went  on,  slipping  easily  into  the  dialect  she  used  with 
her  followers,  "  I  am  Corsican  enough  to  forbear 
from  asking  their  names  of  gentlefolk  in  the  mac- 
chia ;  but  mine  is  John  Constantino,  and  I  am  very 
much  at  your  service." 

"  My  men  call  me  the  Princess  Camilla." 

"  A  good  name,"  said  my  father,  and  seemed  to 

292 


HOSTAGE    TO    THE    PRINCESS 

muse  upon  it  for  a  moment  while  he  eyed  her  pater- 
nally. "  A  very  good  name,  O  Princess,  and  be- 
loved of  old  hv  Diana — 

"  Sternum  telorum  et  virginitatis  amorem 
Intemerata 

But  I  come  at  your  bidding  and  must  first  of  all 
apologise  for  some  little  delay;  the  cause  being  that 
your  messenger  found  me  busy  patching  up  a  bullet- 
hole  in  one  of  your  men." 

"  Giuseppe  is  not  dead  ?  " 

"  He  is  not  dead,  and  on  the  whole  I  incline  to 
think  he  is  not  going  to  die,  though  you  will  allow 
me  to  say  that  the  rogue  deserved  it.  The  other  three 
gentlemen-at-arms  despatched  by  you  are  at  this  mo- 
ment bringing  him  up  the  hill,  very  carefully,  fol- 
lowing my  instructions.  He  will  need  care.  In  fact 
it  will  be  touch-and-go  with  him  for  many  days  to 
come." 

While  he  talked,  my  father,  catching  sight  of  me, 
had  stepped  to  Nat's  couch.  Nodding  to  me  without 
more  ado  to  lift  the  patient  and  cut  away  his  shirt, 
he  knelt,  unrolled  his  case  of  instruments,  and  with 
a  "  Courage,  lad !  "  bent  an  ear  to  the  faint  breath- 
ing. In  less  than  a  minute,  as  it  seemed,  his  hand, 
feeling  around  the  naked  back,  came  to  a  pause  a 
little  behind  and  under  the  right  arm-pit. 

293 


SIR    JOHX    CONSTANTINE 

"Courage,  lad!"  he  repeated.  "A  little  pain, 
and  we'll  have  it,  safe  as  a  wasp  in  an  apple." 

The  Corsieans  under  his  orders  had  withdrawn 
to  a  little  distance  and  stood  about  us  in  a  ring. 
While  he  probed  and  Nat's  poor  body  writhed 
feebly  in  my  arms,  I  lifted  my  eyes  once  with  a 
shudder,  and  met  the  Princess  Camilla's.  She  was 
watching,  and  without  a  tremor,  her  face  grave  as  a 

child's. 

With  a  short  grunt  of  triumph,  my  father  caught 
away  his  hand,  dipped  it  swiftly  into  the  pan  of 
water  beside  him,  and  held  the  bullet  aloft  between 
thumb  and  forefinger.  The  Corsieans  broke  into 
quick  guttural  cries,  as  men  hailing  a  miracle.  As 
Nat's  head  fell  back  limp  against  my  shoulder  I  saw 
the  Princess  turn  and  walk  away  alone. 

Her  followers  dispersed  by  degrees,  but  not  (I 
should  say)  until  every  man  had  explained  to  every 
other  his  o\vn  theory  of  the  wound  and  the  operation, 
and  how  my  father  had  come  to  find  the  bullet  so 
unerringly,  each  theorist  tapping  his  own  chest  and 
back,  or  his  interlocutor's,  sometimes  a  couple  tap- 
ping each  other  with  vigour,  neither  listening,  both 
jabbering  at  full  pitch  of  the  voice  with  prodigious 
elisions  of  consonants  and  equally  prodigious  drawl- 
ings  of  the  vowels.  For  us,  the  dressing  of  the 
wound  kept  us  busy,  and  we  paid  little  attention  even 

294 


HOSTAGE    TO    THE    PRINCESS 

when  a  fresh  jahbering  announced  that  the  litter- 
bearers  had  arrived  with  Giuseppe. 

By  and  bv,  liowever,  my  father  rose  from  his 
knees  and,  leaving  me  to  fasten  the  last  bandages, 
strolled  across  the  slope  to  see  how  his  other  patient 
had  borne  the  journey.  Just  at  that  moment  I  heard 
again  a  voice  calling  to  the  Princess  Camilla :  "  A  jo, 
ajo !  O  principessa,  veni  qui !  "  and  simultaneously 
the  voice  of  Billy  Priske  uplifted  in  an  incongruous 
British  oath. 

My  father  halted  with  a  gesture  of  annoyance, 
checked  himself,  and,  awaiting  the  Princess,  pointed 
towards  an  object  on  the  turf — an  object  at  which 
Billy  Priske,  too,  was  pointing. 

It  appeared  that  while  his  comrades  had  been  at- 
tending on  Giuseppe,  the  third  Corsican  (whom  they 
called  Ste,  or  Stephanu)  had  filled  up  his  time  by 
rifling  our  camp;  and  of  all  our  possessions  he  had 
chosen  to  select  our  half-dozen  spare  muskets  and  a 
burst  coffer,  from  which  he  now  extracted  and  (for 
his  comrades'  admiration)  held  aloft  our  chiefest 
treasure — the  Iron  Crown  of  Corsica. 

"  Princess,"  said  my  father  coldly,  "  your  men 
have  broken  faith.  I  came  to  you  under  no  com- 
pulsion, obeying  your  flag  of  truce.  It  was  no 
part  of  the  bargain  that  our  camp  should  be  pil- 
laged." 

295 


Sm    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

For  a  while  she  did  not  seem  to  hear ;  but  stood  at 
gaze,  her  ejes  round  with  wonder. 

"  Stephanu,  bring  it  here,"  she  commanded. 

The  man  brought  it.  "  O  principessa,"  said  he 
with  a  wondering  grin,  "  who  are  these  that  travel 
with  royal  crowns  ?  If  we  were  true  folk  of  the 
maccliia,  now,  we  could  hold  them  at  a  fine  ransom." 

She  took  the  crown,  examined  it  for  a  moment, 
and,  turning  to  my  father,  spoke  to  him  swiftly  in 
French : 

"  How  came  you  by  this,  O  Englishman  ?  " 

"  That,"  answered  my  father  stiffly,  "  I  decline 
to  tell  you.  It  has  come  to  your  hands.  Princess, 
through  violation  of  your  flag  of  truce,  and  in  honour 
you  should  restore  it  to  me  without  question." 

She  waved  a  hand  impatiently.  "  This  is  the 
crown  of  King  Theodore,  O  Englishman.  See  the 
rim  of  mingled  oak  and  laurel,  made  in  imitation 
of  that  hasty  chaplet  wherewith  the  Corsicans  first 
crowned  him  in  the  Convent  of  Alesani.  Answer  me, 
and  in  French,  for  all  your  lives  depend  on  it;  yet 
briefly,  for  the  sound  of  that  tongue  angers  my  men. 
For  your  life,  then,  how  did  you  come  by  this  ?  " 

"  You  must  find  some  better  argument,  Princess," 
said  my  father  stifily. 

"  For  your  son's  life  then." 

I  saw  my  father  lift  his  eyes  and  scan  her  beauti- 
ful face.  296 


HOSTAGE    TO    THE    PRINCESS 

"  My  son  is  not  a  coward,  Princess ;  the  less  so 
that — "     Here  my  father  hesitated. 

"  Qnickly,  quickly !  "  she  urged  him. 

He  threw  up  his  head.  "  Yes,  quickly,  Princess ; 
and  in  no  fear,  nor  upon  any  condition.  You  are 
islanders ;  therefore  you  are  patriots.  You  are  pa- 
triots; therefore  you  hate  the  Genoese  and  love  the 
Queen  Emilia,  whose  servant  I  am.  As  I  was  say- 
ing, then,  my  son  has  the  less  excuse  to  be  a  coward 
in  that  he  hopes,  one  day,  with  the  Queen  Emilia's 
Messing,  to  wear  this  crown  bequeathed  to  him  by 
the  late  King  Theodore." 

"  He  f  "  The  girl  swamg  upon  me,  scornfully  in- 
credulous. 

"  Even  he,  Princess.  In  proof  I  can  show  you 
King  Theodore's  deed  of  gift,  signed  with  his  own 
hand  and  attested." 

For  the  first  time,  then,  I  saw  her  smile;  but  the 
smile  held  no  correspondence  with  the  tone  of  slow, 
quiet  contempt  in  which  she  next  spoke. 

"  You  are  trustful,  O  sciu  Johann  Constantine.  I 
have  heard  that  all  Englishmen  tell  the  truth,  and 
expect  it,  and  are  otherwise  mad." 

"  I  trust  to  nothing,  Princess,  until  I  have  the 
Queen  Emilia's  word.  That  I  would  trust  to  my 
life's  end." 

She  nodded  darkly.  "  You  shall  go  to  her — if  you 
can  find  her."  on- 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

"  Tell  me  where  to  seek  her." 

"  She  lies  at  jSTonza  in  Capo  Corse;  or  peradven- 
ture  the  Genoese,  who  hold  her  prisoner,  have  by  this 
time  carried  her  across  to  the  Continent." 

"  Though  she  were  in  Genoa  itself,  I  would  de- 
liver her  or  die." 

"  You  will  probably  die,  O  Englishman,  before 
you  receive  her  answer;  and  that  will  be  a  pity — yes, 
a  great  pity.  But  you  are  free  to  go,  you  and  your 
company — all  but  your  son  here,  this  King  of  Cor- 
sica that  is  to  be,  whom  I  keep  as  hostage,  with  his 
crown.  Eh?  Is  this  not  a  good  bargain  I  offer 
you?" 

"  Be  it  good  or  bad.  Princess,"  my  father  an- 
swered, "  to  make  a  bargain  takes  two." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  I,  stepping  forward  with  a 
laugh,  and  thrusting  myself  between  the  Corsicans, 
who  had  begun  to  press  around  with  decided  menace 
in  their  looks.  "  And  therefore  the  Princess  will 
accept  me  as  the  other  party  to  the  bargain,  and  as 
her  hostage." 

Again  at  the  sound  of  my  laugh  she  shrank  a  little; 
but  presently  frowned. 

"  Have  you  considered,  cavalier,"  she  asked 
coldly,  "that  Giuseppe  is  not  certain  of  recovery?" 

"  Still  less  certain  is  my  friend,"  answered  I,  and 
with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders  walked  away  to  Nat's 

298 


HOSTAGE    TO    THE    PRINCESS 

sick-couch.  There,  twenty  minutes  later,  my  father 
took  leave  of  me,  after  giving  some  last  instructions 
for  the  care  of  the  invalid.  In  one  hand  he  carried 
his  musket,  in  the  other  his  camp-stool. 

"  Say  the  word  even  now,  lad,"  he  offered,  "  and 
we  will  abide  till  he  recovers." 

But  I  shook  my  head. 

Billy  Priske  carried  an  enormous  wine-skin  slung 
across  his  shoulders;  Mr.  Eett  a  sack  of  provender. 
Mr.  Badcock  had  begged  or  borrowed  or  purchased 
an  enormous  gridiron. 

"  But  what  is  that  for?  "  I  asked  him  as  we  shook 
hands. 

"  For  cooking  the  wild  goose,"  he  answered  sol- 
emnly, "  which  in  these  parts  (as  I  am  given  to  mi- 
derstand)  is  an  animal  they  call  the  mufffone.  He 
partakes  in  some  degree  of  the  nature  of  a  sheep. 
He  will  find  me  his  match,  sir." 

One  by  one,  a  little  before  the  sun  sank,  they  bade 
me  farewell  and  passed — free  men — down  the  path 
that  dipped  into  the  pine  forest.  On  the  edge  of  the 
dip  each  man  turned  and  waved  a  hand  to  me.  The 
Princess,  with  Marc'antonio  beside  her,  stood  and 
watched  them  as  they  passed  out  of  sight. 


299 


CHAPTER   XVI 

THE    FOREST    HUT 

Then  hooly,  hooly  rase  she  up, 

And  hooly  she  came  nigh  him, 
And  when  she  drew  the  curtain  by — 

"Young  man,  I  think  you're  dyin'." 

— Barbara  Allan's  Cruelty. 

Evening  fell,  filling  the  great  hollow  of  a  sudden 
with  purple  shadows.  As  the  stars  came  out  the  Cor- 
sicans  on  the  slope  to  my  left  lit  a  fire  of  brushwood 
and  busied  themselves  around  it  cooking  their  sup- 
per. They  were  no  ordinary  bandits,  then;  or  at 
least  had  no  fear  to  betray  their  whereabouts,  since 
on  the  landward  side  on  so  clear  a  night  the  glow 
would  be  visible  for  many  miles. 

I  watched  them  at  their  preparations.  Their  dark 
figures  moved  between  me  and  the  flames  as  they 
set  up  a  tall  tripod  of  pine  poles  and  hung  their  caul- 
dron from  the  centre  of  it,  upon  a  brandice.  The 
Princess  had  withdrawn  to  her  cave  and  did  not  re- 
appear until  Stephanu,  who  seemed  to  be  head-cook, 
announced  that  supper  was  ready,  whereupon  she 
came  and  took  her  seat  with  the  rest  in  a  ring  around 

300 


THE    FOEEST    HUT 

the  fire.  Marc'antonio  brought  me  my  share  of 
seethed  kid's  flesh  with  a  capful  of  chestnuts  roasted 
in  the  embers;  a  flask  of  wine  too,  and  a  small  pail 
of  goat's  milk  with  a  pannikin,  for  Nat.  The  fare 
might  not  be  palatable,  ^ut  plainly  they  did  not  in- 
tend us  to  starve. 

Marc'antonio  made  no  answer  when  I  thanked 
him,  but  returned  to  his  seat  in  the  ring,  where  from 
the  beginning  of  the  meal — as  at  a  signal — his  com- 
panions had  engaged  in  a  furious  and  general  dis- 
pute. So  at  least  it  sounded,  and  so  shrill  at  times 
were  their  contending  voices,  and  so  fierce  their 
gesticulations,  that  for  some  minutes  I  fully  ex- 
pected to  see  them  turn  to  other  business  the  knives 
with  which  they  attacked  their  meal. 

The  Princess  sat  listening,  speaking  very  seldom. 
Once  only  in  a  general  hush  the  firelight  showed  me 
that  her  lips  were  moving,  and  I  caught  the  low  tone 
of  her  voice,  but  not  the  words.  Not  once  did  she 
look  in  my  direction,  and  yet  I  guessed  that  she  was 
speaking  of  me:  for  the  words  "  ostagiu,"  "  Inglese  " 
and  the  name  "  Giuseppe  "  or  "  Giuse  " — of  the  man 
I  had  shot — had  recurred  over  and  over  in  their  jab- 
ber, and  recurred  when  she  ceased  and  it  broke  forth 
again. 

It  had  lasted  maybe  for  half  an  hour,  when  at  a 
signal  from  Marc'antonio  (whom  I  took  to  be  the 

301 


SIR    JOHX    CONSTANTINE 

Princess's  lieutenant  or  spokesman  in  these  matters, 
and  to  whom  she  turned  oftener  than  to  any  of  the 
others,  except  perhaps  Stephanu)  two  .or  three  picked 
up  their  muskets,  looked  to  their  priming,  and 
walked  off  into  the  darkness.  By  and  by  came  in 
the  sentinels  they  had  relieved,  and  these  in  turn 
were  helped  by  Stephanu  to  supper  from  the  caul- 
dron. I  watched,  half-expecting  the  dispute  to  start 
afresh,  but  the  others  appeared  to  have  taken  their 
fill  of  it  with  their  food;  and  soon,  each  man  draw- 
ing his  blanket  over  his  head,  lay  back  and  stretched 
themselves  to  sleep.  The  new-comers,  having  satis- 
fied their  hunger,  did  likewise.  Stephanu  gave  the 
great  pot  a  stir,  unhitched  it  from  the  brandice,  and 
bore  it  away,  leaving  the  Princess  and  Marc'antonio 
the  only  two  wakeful  ones  beside  the  fire. 

They  sat  so  long  without  speaking,  the  Princess 
with  knees  drawn  up,  hands  clasping  them,  and  eyes 
bent  on  the  embers  into  which  (for  the  Corsican 
nights  are  chilly)  Marc'antonio  now  and  again  cast  a 
fresh  brand — that  in  time  my  own  eyes  began  to 
grow  heavy.  They  were  smarting,  too,  from  the 
smoke  of  the  burnt  wood.  I^Tat  had  fallen  into  a 
troubled  sleep,  in  which  now  and  again  he  moaned: 
and  always  at  the  sound  I  roused  myself  to  ease  his 
posture  or  give  him  to  drink  from  the  pannikin;  but, 
for  the  rest,  I  dozed,  and  must  have  dozed  for  hours. 

302 


THE    FOREST    IIUT 

I  started  up  wide  awake  at  the  sound  of  a  foot- 
step beside  me,  and  sat  erect,  blinking  against  the 
rays  of  a  lantern  held  close  to  my  eyes.  The  Prin- 
cess held  it,  and  at  Nat's  head  and  feet  stood 
Mare'antonio  and  Stephanu,  in  the  act  of  lifting  his 
litter.  She  motioned  that  I  should  stand  up  and 
follow.  Marc'antonio  and  Stephanu  fell  into  file  be- 
hind us.     Each  carried  a  gun  in  a  sling. 

"  I  will  hold  the  light  where  the  path  is  bad,"  she 
said  quietly;  "but  step  carefully  and  keep  a  watch 
upon  your  feet.  In  an  hour's  time  we  shall  have 
plenty  of  light." 

I  looked  and  saw  the  sickle  of  the  waning  moon 
suspended  over  the  gulf.  It  shot  but  the  feeblest 
glimmer  along  the  edges  of  the  granite  pinnacles, 
none  upon  the  black  masses  of  the  pine-tops.  But 
around  it  the  darkness  held  a  faint  violet  glow,  and 
I  knew  that  day  must  be  climbing  close  on  its  heels. 

There  was  no  promise  of  day,  however,  along  the 
track  into  which  we  plunged — the  track  by  which  my 
comrades  had  descended  to  cross  the  valley.  It  dived 
down  the  mountain  side  through  a  tunnel  of  pines, 
and  in  places  the  wnnter  streams,  now  dry,  had  chan- 
nelled it  and  broken  it  up  with  land-slides. 

"  You  do  not  ask  where  I  am  leading  you,"  she 
said,  holding  her  lantern  for  me  at  one  of  these  awk- 
ward places. 

303 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

"  I  am  your  hostage,  Princess,"  I  answered,  Avith- 
out  looking  at  her,  mj  eyes  being  busy  just  then  in 
discovering  good  foothold.  "  You  must  do  with  me 
what  you  will." 

"  If  I  could !    Ah,  if  I  could !  " 

She  said  it  hard  and  low,  with  clenched  teeth,  al- 
most hissing  the  words.  I  stared  at  her,  amazed.  No 
sign  of  anger  had  she  shown  until  this  moment. 
What  cause  indeed  had  she  to  be  angered?  In  what 
way  had  my  words  offended?  Yet  angry  she  was, 
trembling  with  such  a  gust  of  wrath  that  the  lan- 
tern shook  in  her  hand. 

Before  I  could  master  my  surprise,  she  had  mas- 
tered herself:  and,  turning,  resumed  her  way.  For 
the  next  twenty  minutes  we  descended  in  silence, 
while  the  dawn,  breaking  above  the  roofed  pines,  fil- 
tered down  to  us  and  filled  the  spaces  between  their 
trunks  with  a  brownish  haze.  By  and  by,  when  the 
slope  grew  easier  and  flattened  itself  out  to  form  the 
bottom  of  the  basin,  these  pines  gave  place  to  a 
chestnut  wood  and  the  carpet  of  slippery  needles  to 
a  tangled  undergrowth  taller  than  a  very  tall  man: 
and  here,  in  a  clearing  beside  the  track,  we  came  on 
a  small  hut  with  a  ruinous  palisade  beside  it,  fencing 
off  a  pen  or  courtyard  of  good  size — some  forty  feet 
square,  maybe. 

The  Princess  halted,  and  I  halted  a  few  paces  from 

304 


THE    FOREST    HUT 

her,  studying  the  hut.  It  was  built  of  pine-logs  sawn 
lengthwise  in  half  and  set  together  with  their  un- 
trimmed  bark  turned  outwards :  but  the  most  of  their 
bark  had  peeled  away  with  age.  It  had  two  square 
holes  for  windows,  and  a  doorway,  but  no  door.  Its 
shingle  roof  had  buckled  this  way  and  that  with  the 
rains,  and  had  taken  on  a  tinge  of  grey  which  the 
dawn  touched  to  softest  silver.  Lines  of  more  bril- 
liant silver  criss-crossed  it,  and  these  were  the  tracks 
of  snails. 

"  O  King  of  Corsica,"  she  turned  to  me,  "  behold 
your  palace!  " 

Her  eyes  were  watching  me,  but  in  what  expecta- 
tion I  could  not  tell.  I  stepped  carelessly  to  the 
doorway  and  took  a  glance  around  the  interior. 

"  It  might  be  worse;  and  I  thank  you.  Princess." 

"  Ajo,  Marc'antonio!  Since  the  stranger  approves 
of  it  so  far,  go  carry  his  friend  within." 

"Your  pardon.  Princess,"  I  interposed;  "the 
place  is  something  too  dirty  to  house  a  sick  man,  and 
until  it  be  cleaned  my  friend  will  do  better  in  the 
fresh  air." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  Your  subjects,  O 
King,  have  left  it  in  this  mess,  and  they  will  help 
you  very  little  to  improve  it." 

I  walked  over  to  the  palisade  and  looked  across  it 
upon  an  unsightly  area  foul  with  dried  dung  and  the 

305 


SIR   JOim    CO:NSTANTmE 

trampling  of  pigs.    For  weeks,  if  not  months,  it  must 
have  lain  uninhabited,  but  it  smelt  potently  even  yet. 

"  My  subjects,  Princess?  " 

"  With  Giuse  lying  sick,  the  hogs  roam  without  a 
keeper:  and  my  people  have  chosen  you  in  his  room." 
She  paused,  and  I  felt,  rather  than  saw,  that  both 
the  men  were  eyeing  me  intently.  I  guessed  then 
that  she  was  putting  on  me  a  meditated  insult;  to 
the  Corsican  mind,  doubtless,  a  deep  one. 

"  So  I  am  to  keep  your  hogs.  Princess?  "  said  I 
with  a  deliberate  air.     "  Well,  I  am  your  hostage." 

"  I  am  breaking  no  faith,  Englishman." 

"  As  to  that,  please  observe  that  I  am  not  accus- 
ing you.  I  but  note  that,  having  the  power,  you 
use  it.  But  two  things  puzzle  me :  of  which  the  first 
is,  where  shall  I  find  my  charge? " 

"  Marc'antonio  shall  fetch  them  down  to  you  from 
the  other  side  of  the  mountain." 

"  And  next,  how  shall  I  learn  to  tend  them?  "  I 
asked,  still  keeping  my  matter-of-fact  tone, 

"  They  will  give  you  no  trouble.  You  have  but 
to  pen  them  at  night  and  number  them,  and  again 
at  daybreak  turn  them  loose.  They  know  this  forest 
and  prefer  it  to  the  other  side:  you  will  not  find 
that  they  wander.  At  night  you  have  only  to  blow 
a  horn  which  Marc'antonio  will  bring  you,  and  the 
sound  of  it  will  fetch  them  home." 

306 


THE    FOREST    HUT 

"  A  light  job,"  said  Steplianu  with  a  grin,  "  when 
a  man  can  bring  his  stomach  to  it." 

"  Not  so  light  as  you  suppose,  my  friend,"  I  an- 
swered. "  The  sty,  here,  will  need  some  cleansing. 
Since  if  these  are  to  be  my  subjects,  I  must  do  my 
best  for  them.  It  may  not  amount  to  much,  but  at 
least  my  hogs  shall  keep  themselves  cleaner  than 
some  Corsicans,  even  than  some  Corsican  cooks." 

"  Stephanu,"  said  Marc'antonio  gravely,  "  the 
Englishman  meant  that  for  you :  and  I  tell  you  what 
I  have  told  you  before,  that  yours  are  no  fitly  kept 
hands  for  a  cook.  I  have  travelled  abroad  and  seen 
the  ways  of  other  nations." 

"  The  sty  will  need  mending  too.  Princess,"  said 
I:  "  but  before  nightfall  I  will  try  to  have  it  ready." 

"  You  will  find  tools  in  the  hut,"  she  answered 
with  a  glance  at  Marc'antonio,  who  nodded.  "  For 
food,  you  shall  be  kept  supi)lied.  Stephanu  has 
brought,  in  his  sack  yonder,  flesh,  cheese,  and  wine 
sufiicient  for  three  days,  with  milk  for  your  friend: 
and  day  by  day  fresh  milk  shall  be  sent  down  to  you." 

Her  words  were  commonplace,  yet  her  cheeks 
wore  an  angry  flush  beneath  their  sun-burn;  and  I 
knew  why.  Her  insult  had  miscarried.  In  accept- 
ing this  humiliation  I  had  somehow  mastered  her: 
even  the  tone  she  used,  level  and  matter-of-fact,  she 
used  perforce,  in  place  of  the  high  scorn  with  which 

307 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

she  had  started  to  sentence  me.  My  spirits  rose.  If 
I  could  not  understand  this  girl,  neither  could  she  un- 
derstand me.  She  only  felt  defeat,  and  it  puzzled 
and  angered  her. 

"  You  have  no  complaint  to  make?  "  she  asked, 
hesitating  in  spite  of  herself  as  she  turned  to  go. 

I  laughed,  having  discovered  that  my  laugh  per- 
plexed her.  "  None  whatever,  Princess.  Am  I  not 
your  hostage? " 

•  •  •  •  • 

When  they  were  gone  I  laughed  again,  with  a 
glance  at  Nat,  who  lay  with  closed  eyes  and  white, 
still  face  where  Marc'antonio  and  Stephanu  had 
made  a  couch  of  fern  and  some  heather  for  him  un- 
der the  chestnut  boughs.  The  sight  of  the  heather 
gave  me  an  idea,  and  I  walked  back  to  where,  at 
the  end  of  the  chestnut  wood,  a  noble  clump  of  it 
grew,  under  a  scarp  of  rock  where  the  pines  broke 
off.  With  my  knife  I  cut  an  armful  of  it  and  re- 
turned to  the  hut,  pausing  on  my  way  to  gather  some 
strings  of  a  creeper  which  looked  to  be  a  clematis 
and  sufficiently  tough  for  my  purpose.  My  next  step 
was  to  choose  and  cut  a  tolerably  straight  staff  of 
ilex,  about  five  feet  in  length  and  close  upon  two 
inches  thick.  AVhile  I  trimmed  it  a  blackbird  began 
to  sing  in  the  undergrowth  behind  the  hut,  and, 
listening,  my  ears  seemed  to  catch  in  the  pauses  of 

308 


THE    FOREST    HUT 

his  song  a  sound  of  running  water,  less  loud  but 
nearer  and  more  distinct  than  the  muiTnur  of  the 
many  rock-streams  that  tinkled  into  the  valley.  I 
dropped  my  work  for  a  while  and,  passing  to  the  back 
of  the  hut,  found  and  followed  through  the  bushes  a 
foot-track — overgrown  and  tangled  with  briers,  but 
still  a  track — which  led  me  to  the  water.  It  ran, 
with  a  murmur  almost  subterranean,  beneath  bushes 
so  closely  overarched  that  my  feet  were  on  the  brink 
before  I  guessed,  and  I  came  close  upon  taking  a 
bath  at  unawares.  Xow  this  stream,  so  handv  within 
reach,  w^as  just  what  I  wanted,  and  among  the  bushes 
by  the  verge  grew  a  plant — much  like  our  English 
osier,  but  dwarf er — extremely  pliant  and  tougher 
than  the  tendrils  of  the  clematis;  so  that,  having 
stripped  it  of  half  a  dozen  twigs,  I  went  back  to  work 
more  blithely  than  ever. 

But  for  fear  of  disturbing  Xat  I  could  have 
whistled.  It  may  even  be  that,  intent  on  my  task, 
I  did  unwittingly  whistle  a  few  bars  of  a  tune:  or 
perhaps  the  blackbird  woke  him.  At  any  rate,  after 
half  an  hour's  labour  I  looked  up  from  my  handi- 
work and  met  his  eyes,  open,  intent  on  me  and  with 
a  question  in  them. 

"  What  am  I  doing,  eh?     I  am  making  a  broom, 
lad."     I  held  it  up  for  him  to  admire. 
Where  is  she? "  he  asked  feebly. 

309 


(( 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

"  She  ?  "  I  set  down  my  broom,  fetched  him  a 
pannikinful  of  milk,  and  knelt  beside  him  while  he 
drank  it.  "  If  you  mean  the  Princess  Camilla,  she 
has  gone  back  to  her  mountain,  leaving  us  in  peace." 

"Camilla?"  he  murmured  the  word. 

"  And  a  very  suitable  name,  it  seems  to  me.  There 
was,  if  you  remember,  a  young  lady  in  the  ^Eneid  of 
pretty  much  the  same  disposition." 

"  Camilla,"  he  repeated,  and  again  but  a  little 
above  his  breath.  "  Your  father  ...  he  is  helping 
her?" 

"  Helping  her?  "  I  echoed.  "  My  dear  lad,  if  ever 
a  young  woman  could  take  care  of  herself  it  is  the 
Princess.  .  .  .  And  as  for  my  father  helping  her, 
she  has  packed  him  off  northwards  across  the  moun- 
tains with  a  flea  in  his  ear.  And,  talking  of  fleas — " 
I  went  on  with  a  glance  at  the  hut. 

He  brought  me  to  a  full  stop  with  a  sudden  grip 
on  my  arm,  astonishingly  strong  for  a  wounded  man. 
"Nay,  lad — nay!"  I  coaxed  him,  but  slipped  a 
hand  under  him  as  he  insisted  and  sat  upright. 

"  She  needs  help,  I  tell  you,"  he  gasped.  "  Needs 
help  ...  it  was  for  help  I  ran  when — when " 

"But  what  dreaming  is  this?  My  dear  fellow, 
she  makes  prisoners  of  us,  shoots  you  down  when 
you  try  to  escape,  treats  me  worse  than  a  dog,  ban- 
ishes  us  to  this  hut  which — not  to  put  too  fine  a 

310 


THE    FOREST    HUT 

point  on  it — is  a  pigs'  sty  and  particularly  filthy  at 
that.  I  don't  blame  her,  though  some  little  explana- 
tion might  not  come  amiss:  but  if  she  has  any  need 
of  help,  you  must  admit  that  she  dissembles  it  pretty 
thoroughly." 

Nat  would  not  listen.  "  You  did  not  see?  You  did 
not  see? — x\nd  yet  you  know  her  language  and  have 
talked  with  her!  Whereas  I — O  blind!  "  he  broke 
out  passionately,  "  blind  that  you  could  not  see !  " 

A  fit  of  coughing  seized  and  shook  him,  and  as  I 
eased  him  back  upon  his  fern  pillow,  blood  came 
away  upon  the  handkerchief  I  held  to  his  lips. 

"  Damn  her!  "  I  swore  viciously.  "  Let  her  need 
help  if  she  will,  and  let  her  ask  me  for  it!  She  has 
tried  her  best  to  kill  you;  and,  what's  more,  she'll 
succeed  if  you  don't  lie  still  as  I  order.  Help?  Oh 
yes,  I'll  help  her — when  I  have  helped  you\  " 

He  moved  his  head  feebly,  as  if  to  shake  it:  but 
lay  quiet,  panting,  with  closed  eyes:  and  so,  the  ef- 
fusion of  blood  having  ceased,  I  left  him  and  fell 
to  work  like  a  negro  slave. 

By  the  angle  of  the  hut  there  stood  a  pigs'  trough 
of  granite,  roughly  hewn  and  hollowed,  and  among 
the  tools  within  I  found  a  leaky  wooden  bucket 
which,  by  daubing  it  with  mud  from  the  brink  of 
the  stream,  I  contrived  to  make  passably  watertight. 
A  score  of  times  I  must  have  travelled  to  and  fro 

311 


SIR    JOHi^    CO^^STANTIXE 

between  the  hut  and  the  stream  before  I  had  the 
cistern  filled.  Then  I  fell-to  upon  the  foul  walls 
within,  slushing  and  brooming  them.  Bats  dropped 
from  the  roof  and  flew  blundering  against  me:  I 
drove  them  forth  from  the  window.  The  mud  floor 
became  a  quag:  I  seized  a  spade  and  shovelled  it 
clean,  mud  and  slime  and  worse  filth  together.  And 
still  as  I  toiled  a  song  kept  liddening  (as  we  say  in 
Cornwall)  through  mj  head:  a  song  with  two  re- 
frains, whereof  the  first  was  the  old  nursery  jingle 
— "  Mud  won't  daub  sieve,  sieve  won't  hold  water, 
water  won't  wet  stone,  stone  won't  edge  axe,  axe 
won't  cut  rod,  rod  won't  make  a  gad,  a  gad  to  hang 
Manachar,  who  has  eaten  my  raspberries  every  one." 
(So  ran  the  rigmarole  with  which  Mrs.  Nance  had 
beguiled  my  infancy.)  The  second  refrain  echoed 
poor  Nat's  cry,  "  She  needs  help,  needs  help,  and 
you  could  not  see !  Blind,  blind,  that  you  could  not 
see!" 

How  should  she  need  help?  Little  cared  I  though 
she  needed  it,  and  sorely!  But  how  had  the  notion 
taken  hold  of  Nat? 

Weakness?  Delirium?  No:  he  had  been  running 
to  get  help  for  her  when  they  shot  him  down.  I 
had  his  word  for  that.  .  .  .  But  she  had  pursued 
with  the  others.  For  aught  I  knew,  she  herself  had 
fired  the  shot. 

312 


THE    FOREST    HUT 

If  she  needed  help,  why  was  she  treating  us  de- 
spitefiilly — putting  this  insult  upon  me,  for  example? 
Why  had  she  used  those  words  of  hate?  They  had 
been  passionate  words,  too;  spoken  from  the  heart 
in  an  instant  of  surprise.  Then,  again,  to  suppose 
her  a  friend  of  the  Genoese  was  impossible.  But 
why,  if  not  a  friend  of  the  Genoese,  was  she  a  foe 
of  their  foes?  Why  had  she  taken  to  the  macchia 
with  these  men?  Why  were  they  keeping  watch  on 
the  coast  while  careless  that  their  watchfire  showed 
inland  for  leagues  ?  Why,  if  she  were  a  patriot,  had 
the  sight  of  King  Theodore's  crown  awakened  such 
scorn  and  yet  rage  against  me,  its  bearer?  Why 
again,  at  the  mere  word  that  my  father  sought  the 
Queen  Emilia,  had  she  let  him  pass  on,  while  re- 
doubling her  despite  against  me? 

On  top  of  these  puzzles  Nat  must  needs  propound 
another,  that  this  girl  stood  in  need  of  help! 

Help?    From  whom? 

As  my  mind  ran  over  these  questions,  still  at  every 
pause  the  old  rigmarole  kept  dinning — "  Mud  won't 
daub  sieve,  sieve  won't  hold  water,  water  won't  wet 
stone  .  .  ."  on  and  on  without  ceasing,  and  still  I 
toiled  and  sweated. 

By  noon  the  hut  was  clean,  at  any  rate  tolerably 
clean;  but  its  soaked  floor  would  certainly  take  many 
hours  in  drying,  and  Nat  must  spend  another  night 

313 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

under  the  open  skv.  I  left  the  hut,  snatched  a  meal 
of  bread  and  cheese,  and,  after  a  pull  at  the  wine- 
flask,  turned  my  attention  to  -the  sty.  To  cleanse  it 
before  nightfall  was  out  of  the  question.  I  examined 
it  and  saw  three  good  days'  labour  ahead  of  me.  But 
the  palisading  could  be  repaired  and  made  secure 
after  a  fashion,  and  I  started  upon  it  at  once,  sharp- 
ening the  rotten  posts  with  my  axe,  driving,  fixing, 
nailing,  binding  them  firmly  with  osier-twists,  of 
which  I  had  fetched  a  fresh  supply  from  the  stream- 
side.  I  had  rolled  my  jacket  into  a  pillow  for  Nat, 
that  he  might  lie  easily  and  watch  me. 

The  sun  was  sinking  beyond  the  mountain,  stain- 
ing with  deep  rose  the  pinnacles  of  granite  that 
soared  eastward  above  the  pines,  when  a  horn 
sounded  on  the  slope  and  Marc'antonio  came  down 
the  track  driving  the  hogs  before  him.  He  in- 
structed me  good-naturedly  enough  in  the  art  of  pen- 
ning the  brutes,  breaking  off  from  time  to  time  to 
compliment  me  on  my  labours,  the  sum  of  which 
appeared  to  affect  him  with  a  degree  of  wonder  not 
far  short  of  awe. 

"  But  why  are  you  doing  it?  Perche?  perche?  "  he 
broke  off  once  or  twice  to  ask,  eyeing  me  askance 
with  a  look  rather  fearful  than  unfriendly. 

"  The  Princess  laid  this  task  upon  me,"  I  answered 
cheerfully,  indeed  with  elation,  feeling  that  so  long 

314: 


THE    FOREST    liLT 

as  I  could  keep  my  tyrants  puzzled  I  still  kept,  some- 
how, the  upper  hand. 

"  I  have  travelled,  in  my  time,"  said  Marc'antonio 
with  a  touch  of  vainglorious  pride.  "  I  have  made 
the  acquaintance  of  many  continentals,  even  with 
some  that  were  extremely  rich.  But  I  never  crossed 
over  to  England." 

"  You  would  have  found  it  full  of  eccentrics," 
said  I. 

"  I  dare  say,"  said  he.  "  Eor  myself,  I  said  to 
myself  when  I  took  ship,  '  Marc'antonio,'  said  I, 
'  you  must  make  it  a  rule  to  be  surprised  at  nothing.' 
But  do  Englishmen  clean  hogs'  styes  for  pleasure  ?  " 

"And  the  Princess?  She  has  also  travelled?"  I 
asked,  meeting  his  question  with  another. 

Eor  the  moment  my  question  appeared  to  disturb 
him.  Recovering  himself,  he  answered  gravely, 
"  She  has  travelled,  but  not  very  far.  You  must  not 
do  her  an  injustice.  .  .  .  AVe  form  our  opinions  on 
what  we  see." 

"  It  is  admittedly  the  best  way,"  I  assented  with 
equal  gravity. 

At  the  shut  of  night  he  left  me  and  went  his  way 
up  the  mountain  path,  and  an  hour  later,  having  at- 
tended to  Xat's  wants,  tired  as  in  all  my  life  I  had 
never  been,  I  stretched  myself  on  the  turf  and  slept 
under  the  stars. 

315 


SIR  joh:n"  coxstantixe 

The  grunting  of  the  hogs  awakened  me  a  little 
before  dawn.  I  went  to  the  pen,  and  as  soon  as  I 
opened  the  hatch  they  rushed  out  in  a  crowd,  all  but 
upsetting  me  as  they  jostled  against  my  legs.  Then, 
after  listening  for  a  wdiile  after  they  had  vanished 
into  the  undergrowth  and  darkness,  I  crept  back  to 
my  couch  and  slept. 

That  day,  though  the  sun  was  rising  before  I 
awoke  again  and  broke  fast,  I  caught  up  with  it  be- 
fore noon :  that  is  to  say,  with  the  work  I  had  prom- 
ised myself  to  accomplish.  Before  sunset  I  had 
scraped  over  and  cleaned  the  entire  area  of  the  sty. 
Also  I  had  fetched  fern  in  handfuls  and  strewn  the 
floor  of  the  hut,  which  was  now  dry  and  clean  to  the 
smell. 

In  the  evening  I  blew  my  horn  for  the  hogs,  and 
they  returned  to  their  pen  obediently  as  the  Princess 
had  promised.  I  had  scarcely  finished  numbering 
them  when  Marc'antonio  came  down  the  track,  this 
time  haling  a  recalcitrant  she-goat  by  a  halter. 

He  tethered  the  goat  and  instructed  me  how  to 
milk  her. 

The  next  evening  he  brought,  at  my  request,  a 
saw.  I  had  cleaned  out  the  sty  thoroughly,  and 
tumed-to  at  once  to  enlarge  the  window-openings  to 
admit  more  light  and  air  into  the  hut. 

Still,  as  I  worked,  my  spirits  rose.     Xat  was  bet- 

316 


THE    FOREST    IIUT 

tering  fast.  In  a  few  more  days,  I  promised  myself, 
he  would  be  out  of  danger.  To  be  sure  he  shook 
his  head  when  I  spoke  of  this  hope,  and  in  the  in- 
tervals of  sleep — of  sleep  in  which  I  rejoiced  as  the 
sweet  restorer — lay  watching  me,  with  a  trouble  in 
his  eyes. 

He  no  longer  disobeyed  my  orders,  but  lay  still 
and  watched.  My  last  rag  of  shirt  was  gone  now, 
torn  up  for  bandages.  Marc'antonio  had  promised  to 
bring  fresh  linen  to-morrow.  By  night  I  slept  with 
my  jacket  about  me.  By  day  I  worked  naked  to  the 
waist,  yet  always  with  a  growing  cheerfulness. 

It  was  on  the  fourth  afternoon,  and  while  yet  the 
sun  stood  a  good  way  above  the  pines,  that  the  Prin- 
cess Camilla  deigned  to  re"\asit  us.  I  had  carried  Nat 
forth  into  the  glade  before  the  hut,  where  the  sun 
might  fall  on  him  temperately,  after  a  torrid  day — 
torrid,  that  is  to  say,  on  the  heights,  but  in  our 
hollow,  pight  about  with  the  trees,  the  air  had  clung 
heavily. 

Marc'antonio,  an  hour  earlier  than  usual,  came 
down  the  track  with  a  bundle  of  linen  under  his  left 
arm.  I  did  not  see  that  anv  one  followed  him  until 
ISTat  pulled  himself  up,  clutching  at  my  elbow. 

"Princess!  Princess!"  he  cried,  and  his  voice 
rang  shrill  towards  her  under  the  boughs.     "  Help 

her  .   .   .  T  cannot " 

317 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

His  voice  choked  on  that  last  word  as  she  came 
forward  and  stood  regarding  him  carelessly,  coldly, 
while  I  wiped  the  blood  and  then  the  bloody  froth 
from  his  lips. 

"  Your  friend  looks  to  be  in  an  ill  case,"  she  said. 

"  You  have  killed  him,"  said  I,  and  looked  up  at 
her  stonily  as  Nat's  head  fell  back,  with  a  weight  I 
could  not  mistake,  on  my  arms. 


318 


CHAPTER    XVII 


THE    FIEST    CHALLENGE 


The  remedye  agayns  Ire  is  a  vertu  that  men  clepen  Mansuetude, 
that  is  Debonairetee;  and  eek  another  vertu,  that  men  callen 
Pacience  or  Suffrance.  .  .  .  This  vertu  disconfiteth  thyn  enemy. 
And  therefore  seith  the  wyse  man,  "If  thou  wolt  venquisse  thyn 
enemy,  lerne  to  suffre." — Chaucer,  Parson's  Tale. 

"  You  have  killed  him."  I  lowered  ISTat's  head, 
stood  up  and  accused  her  fiercely. 

She  confronted  me,  contemptuous  yet  pale.  Even 
in  my  wrath  I  could  see  that  her  pallor  had  nothing 
to  do  with  fear. 

"  Say  that  I  have,  what  then  ?  "  She  very  delib- 
erately unhitched  the  gun  from  her  bandolier,  and, 
after  examining  the  lock,  laid  it  on  the  turf  midway 
between  us.  "  As  my  hostage  you  may  claim  ven- 
detta; take  your  shot  then,  and  afterwards  Marc'an- 
tonio  shall  take  his." 

"  No,  no.  Englishman !  "  Marc'antonio  ran  be- 
tween us  while  yet  I  stared  at  her  without  compre- 
hending, and  there  was  anguish  in  his  cry.  "  The 
Princess  lies  to  you.  It  was  I  that  fired  the  shot — 
I  that  killed  your  friend!  " 

319 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

The  girl  shrugged  her  shoulders  indifferently. 
"  Ah,  well  then,  Mare'antonio,  since  you  will 
have  it  so,  give  me  my  gun  again  and  hand  yours 
to  the  cavalier.  Do  as  I  tell  you,  please,"  she  com- 
manded, as  the  man  turned  to  her  with  a  dropping 
jaw. 

"  Princess,  I  implore  you " 

"  You  are  a  coward,   Mare'antonio." 

"  Have  it  so,"  he  answered  sullenly.  "  It  is  God's 
truth,  at  all  events,  that  I  am  afraid." 

"Forme?  But  I  have  this."  She  tapped  the  bar- 
rel of  her  gun  as  she  took  it  from  him.  "  And  after- 
wards— if  that  is  in  your  mind — afterwards  I  shall 
still  have  Stephanu." 

She  said  it  lightly,  but  it  brought  all  the  blood 
back  to  his  brow  and  cheek  with  a  rush.  Not  for 
many  days  did  I  learn  the  full  meaning  of  the  look 
he  turned  on  her,  but  for  dumb  reproach  I  never 
saw  the  like  of  it  on  man's  face. 

Her  foot  tapped  the  ground.  "  Give  him  the 
gun,"  she  commanded,  and  Mare'antonio  thrust  it 
into  my  hands.  "  Now  turn  your  back  and  walk  to 
that  first  tree  yonder,  very  slowly,  pace  by  pace,  as 
you  hear  me  count." 

Her  face  was  set  like  a  flint,  her  tone  relentless. 
Mare'antonio  half  raised  his  two  fists,  clenching  them 
for  a  moment,  but  dropped  them  by  his  side,  turned 

320 


THE    FIRST    CHALLENGE 

his  back,  and  began  to  walk  obediently  towards  the 
tree. 

"  One — two — three — four — five,"  she  counted, 
and  paused.  "  Englishman,  this  fellow  has  killed 
your  friend,  and  you  claim  yourself  worthy  to  be 
King  of  Corsica.     Prove  it." 

"  Excuse  me,  Princess,"  said  I,  "  but  before  that 
I  have  some  other  things  to  prove,  of  which  some 
are  easy  and  others  may  be  hard  and  tedious." 

"  Seven — eight — nine."  With  no  answer,  but  a 
curl  of  the  lip,  she  resumed  her  counting. 

"  Marc'antonio !  "  I  called — he  had  almost  reached 
the  tree — "  Come  here!  " 

He  faced  about,  his  eyes  starting,  his  cheeks 
blanched.  As  he  drew  nearer  I  saw  that  his  fore- 
head shone  with  sweat. 

"  I  have  a  word  for  you,"  I  said  slowly.  "  In  the 
first  place,  an  Englishman  does  not  shoot  his  game 
sitting;  it  is  against  the  rules.  Secondly,  he  is 
by  no  means  necessarily  a  fool,  but,  if  it  came 
to  shooting  against  two,  he  might  have  sense 
enough  to  get  his  first  shot  upon  the  one  who 
held  the  musket — a  point  which  your  mistress  over- 
looked perhaps."  I  bowed  to  her  gravely.  "  And 
thirdly,"  I  went  on,  hardening  my  voice,  "  I  have 
to  tell  you,  Ser  ]\rarc'antonio,  that  this  friend  of 
mine,    whom   you   have   killed,    was   not    trying   to 

3i?l 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

escape  you,  but  running  to  seek  help  for  the 
Princess." 

Marc'antonio  checked  an  exclamation.  He  glanced 
at  the  girl,  and  she  at  him  suspiciously,  with  a  deep- 
ening frown. 

"  Help?  "  she  echoed,  turning  the  frown  upon  me. 
"  What  help,  sir,  should  I  need?  " 

It  was  my  turn  now  to  shrug  the  shoulders. 
"  Nay,"  I  answered,  "  I  tell  you  but  what  he  told 
me.  He  divined,  or  at  least  he  was  persuaded,  that 
you  stood  in  need  of  help." 

She  threw  a  puzzled,  questioning  look  at  the  poor 
corpse,  but  lifted  her  eyes  to  find  mine  fixed  upon 
them,  and  shrank  a  little  as  I  stepped  close.  Her 
two  hands  went  behind  her,  swiftly.  I  may  have 
made  a  motion  to  grip  her  by  the  wrists;  I  cannot 
tell.  My  next  words  surprised  myself,  and  the  tone 
of  my  voice  speaking  and  the  passion  in  it. 

"  You  have  killed  my  friend,"  said  I,  "  who  de- 
sired only  your  good.  You  have  chosen  to  humiliate 
me,  who  willed  you  no  harm.  And  now  you  say 
'  it  shall  be  vendetta.'  Very  well,  it  shall  be  ven- 
detta, but  as  I  choose  it.  Keep  your  foolish 
weapons;  I  can  do  without  them.  Heap  what  insults 
you  will  upon  me;  I  am  a  man  and  will  bear  them. 
But  you  are  a  woman,  and  therefore  to  be  mastered. 
For  my  friend's  sake  I  choose  to  hate  you  and  to  be 

322 


THE    FIRST    CHALLENGE 

patient.  For  my  friend's  sake,  who  discovered  your 
need,  I  too  will  discover  it  and  help  it;  and  again, 
not  as  you  will,  but  as  I  determine.  For  my  friend's 
sake,  mistress,  and  if  I  choose,  I  will  even  love  you 
and  you  shall  come  to  my  hand.  Bethink  you  now 
what  pains  you  can  put  on  me;  but  at  the  last  you 
shall  come  and  place  your  neck  under  my  foot, 
humbly,  not  choosing  to  be  loved  or  hated,  only 
beseeching  your  master!  " 

I  broke  off,  half  in  wonder  at  my  own  words  and 
the  flame  in  my  blood,  half  in  dismay  to  see  her, 
who  at  first  had  fronted  me  bravely,  wince  and  put 
up  both  hands  to  her  face,  yet  not  so  as  to  cover 
a  tide  of  shame  flushing  her  from  throat  to  brow. 

"  Give  me  leave  to  shoot  him,  Princess,"  said 
Marc'antonio.  But  she  shook  her  head.  "  He  has 
been  talking  with  some  one.  .  .  .  With  Stephanu?  " 
His  gaze  questioned  me  gloomily.  "  No,  I  will  do 
the  dog  justice;  Stephanu  would  not  talk." 

"  Lead  her  away,"  said  I,  "  and  leave  me  now  to 
mourn  my  friend." 

He  touched  her  by  the  arm,  at  the  same  time 
promising  me  with  a  look  that  he  would  return  for 
an  explanation.  The  Princess  shivered,  but,  as  he 
stood  aside  to  let  her  pass,  recollected  herself  and 
went  before  him  up  the  path  beneath  the  pines. 

I  stepped  to  where  Nat  lay  and  bent  over  him.    I 

323 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

had  never  till  now  been  alone  with  death,  and  it 
should  have  found  me  terribly  alone.  ...  I  closed 
his  eyes.  .  .  .  And  this  had  been  my  friend,  my 
schoolfellow,  cleverer  than  I  and  infinitely  more 
thoughtful,  lacking  no  grace  but  good  fortune,  and 
lacking  that  only  by  strength  of  a  spirit  too  gal- 
lant for  its  fate.  In  all  our  friendship  it  was  I 
that  had  taken,  he  that  had  given;  in  the  strange 
path  we  had  entered  and  travelled  thus  far  together, 
it  was  he  that  had  supplied  the  courage,  the  loyalty, 
the  blithe  confidence  that  life  held  a  prize  to  be  won 
with  noble  weapons;  he  who  had  set  his  face  towards 
the  heights  and  pinned  his  faith  to  the  stars;  he,  the 
victim  of  a  senseless  bullet;  he,  stretched  here  as  he 
had  fallen,  all  thoughts,  all  activities  quenched,  gone 
out  into  that  night  of  which  the  darkness  gathering 
in  this  forsaken  glade  was  but  a  phantom,  to  be 
chased  away  by  to-morrow's  sun.  To-morrow  .  .  . 
to-morrow  I  should  go  on  living  and  begin  forget- 
ting him.  To-morrow?  God  forgive  me  for  an  in- 
grate,  I  had  begun  already.  .  .  .  Even  as  I  bent 
over  him,  my  uppermost  thought  had  not  been  of  my 
friend.  I  had  made,  in  the  moment  almost  of  his 
death  and  across  his  body,  my  first  acquaintance 
with  passion.  My  blood  tingled  yet  with  the  strange 
fire;  my  mind  ran  in  a  tumult  of  high  resolves  of 
which  I  understood  neither  the  end  nor  the  present 

32i 


THE    FIRST    CHALLENGE 

meaning,  but  only  that  the  world  had  on  a  sudden 
become  my  battlefield,  that  the  fight  was  mine,  and 
at  all  cost  the  victory  must  be  mine.  It  was,  if  I 
may  say  it  without  blasphemy,  as  if  my  friend's  blood 
had  baptised  me  into  his  faith;  and  I  saw  life  and 
death  with  new  eyes. 

Yet,  for  the  moment,  in  finding  passion  I  had  also 
found  self;  and  shame  of  this  self  dragged  down  my 
elation.  I  had  sprung  to  my  feet  in  wild  rage  against 
Nat's  murder;  I  had  spoken  words — fierce,  unpre- 
meditated words — which,  beginning  in  a  boyish  de- 
fiance, had  ended  on  a  note  which,  though  my  own 
lips  uttered  it,  I  heard  as  from  a  trumpet  sound- 
ing close  and  yet  calling  afar.  In  a  minute  or  so 
it  had  happened,  and  behold!  I  that,  sitting  beside 
Nat,  should  have  been  terribly  alone,  was  not  alone, 
for  my  new-found  self  sat  between  us,  intruding  on 
my  sorrow. 

I  declare  now  with  shame,  as  it  abased  me  then, 
that  for  hours,  while  the  darkness  fell  and  the  stars 
began  their  march  over  the  tree-tops,  the  ghostly 
intruder  kept  watch  with  me  as  a  bodily  presence 
mocking  us  both,  benumbing  my  efforts  to  sorrow. 
.  .  .  Nor  did  it  fade  until  calm  came  to  me,  recalled 
by  the  murmur  of  unseen  waters.  Listening  to  them, 
I  let  my  thoughts  travel  up  to  the  ridges  and  forth 
into   that    unconfined   world   of   which  Nat's   spirit 

325 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

had  been  made  free.  ...  I  went  to  the  hut  for  a 
pail,  groped  my  way  to  the  stream,  and  fetched  water 
to  prepare  his  body  for  burial.  When  I  returned 
the  hateful  presence  had  vanished.  My  eyes  went 
up  to  a  star — love's  planet — poised  over  the  dark 
boughs.  Thither  and  beyond  it  Nat  had  travelled. 
Through  those  windows  he  would  henceforth  look 
back  and  down  on  me;  never  again  through  the  eyes 
I  had  loved  as  a  friend  and  lived  to  close.  I  could 
weep  now,  and  I  wept;  not  passionately,  not  self- 
ishly, but  in  grief  that  seemed  to  rise  about  me  like 
a  tide  and  bear  me  and  all  fate  of  man  together  upon 
its  deep,  strong  flood.  .  .  . 

At  daybreak  Marc'antonio  and  Stephanu  came 
down  the  pass  and  found  me  digging  the  grave.  I 
thought  at  first  that  they  intended  me  some  harm, 
for  their  faces  were  ill-humoured  enough  in  all  con- 
science; but  they  carried  each  a  spade,  and,  after 
growling  a  salutation,  set  down  their  guns  and  struck 
in  to  help  me  with  my  work. 

We  had  been  digging,  maybe,  for  twenty  minutes, 
and  in  silence,  when  my  ear  caught  the  sound  of 
furious  grunting  from  the  sty,  where  I  had  penned 
the  hogs  overnight,  a  little  before  sundown.  Nat 
had  watched  me  as  I  numbered  them,  and  it  seemed 
now  so  long  ago  that  I  glanced  up  with  a  start  al- 
most guilty,  as  though  in  my  grief  I  had  neglected 

326 


THE    FIRST    CHALLENGE 

the  poor  brutes  for  days.  In  fact  I  had  kept  them 
in  prison  for  a  short  hour  beyond  their  usual  time, 
and  some  one  even  now  was  liberating  them. 

It  was  the  Princess,  of  whose  presence  I  had  not 
been  aware.  She  stood  by  the  gate  of  the  pen,  her 
head  and  shoulders  in  sunlight,  while  the  hogs  raced 
in  shadow  past  her  feet. 

Marc'antonio  glanced  at  her  across  his  shoulder 
and  growled  angrily. 

"  Your  pardon,  Princess,"  said  I  slowly,  as  she 
closed  the  gate  after  the  last  of  the  hogs  and  came 
forward.  "  I  have  been  remiss,  but  I  need  no  help 
either  for  this  or  for  any  of  my  work." 

She  halted  a  few  paces  from  the  grave.  "  You 
would  rather  be  alone?"  she  asked  simply. 

"  I  wish  you  to  understand,"  said  I,  "  that  for  the 
present  I  have  no  choice  at  all  but  your  will." 

She  frowned.  "  I  thought  to  lighten  your  work, 
cavalier." 

I  was  about  to  thank  her  ironically  when  the 
sound  of  a  horn  broke  the  silence  about  us,  its  notes 
falling  through  the  clear  morning  air  from  the 
heights  across  the  valley.  The  Corsicans  dropped 
their  spades. 

"  Ajo,  listen!  listen!"  cried  Marc'antonio  ex- 
citedly. "  That  will  be  the  Prince — listen  again ! 
Yes,  and  they  are  answering  from  the  mountain.    It 

327 


SIK    JOHN    CONSTANXmE 

can  be  no  other  than  the  Prince,  returning  this 
way!" 

While  we  stood  listening,  with  our  faces  upturned 
to  the  granite  crags,  I  caught  the  Princess  regard- 
ing me  doubtfully.  Her  gaze  passed  on  as  if  to  in- 
terrogate Marc'antonio  and  Stephanu,  who,  how- 
ever, paid  no  heed,  being  preoccupied. 

Again  the  horn  sounded;  not  clear  as  before,  al- 
though close  at  hand,  for  the  thick  woods  muffled 
it.  For  another  three  minutes  we  waited — the  Prin- 
cess silent,  standing  a  little  apart,  with  thoughtful 
brow,  the  two  men  conversing  in  rapid  guttural 
undertones;  then  far  up  the  track  beneath  the 
boughs  a  musket-barrel  glinted,  and  another  and  an- 
other, glint  following  glint,  as  a  file  of  men  came 
swinging  down  between  the  pines,  disappeared  for 
a  moment,  and,  rounding  a  thicket  of  the  under- 
growth, emerged  upon  the  level  clearing.  In  dress 
and  bearing  they  were  not  to  be  distinguished  from 
Marc'antonio,  Stephanu,  or  any  of  the  bandits  on  the 
mountain.  Each  man  carried  a  musket  and  each 
wore  the  jacket  and  breeches  of  sad-coloured  velvet, 
the  small  cap  and  leathern  leggings  which  I  after- 
wards learnt  to  be  the  uniform  of  patriotic  Corsica. 
But  as  they  deployed  upon  the  glade — some  forty 
men  in  all — and  halted  at  sight  of  us,  my  eyes  fell 
upon  a  priest,  who  in  order  of  marching  had  been 

328 


THE    FIRST    CHALLEXGE 

midmost,  or  nearly  midmost,  of  the  file,  and 
upon  a  young  man  beside  him,  towards  whom  the 
Princess  sprang  with  a  light  step  and  a  cry  of  salu- 
tation. 

"  The  blessing  of  God  be  upon  you,  O  brother!  " 

"And  upon  you,  O  sister!"  He  took  her  kiss 
and  returned  it,  yet  (as  I  thought)  with  less  fervour. 
Across  her  shoulder  his  gaze  fell  on  me,  with  a 
kind  of  peevish  wonder,  and  he  drew  back  a  little 
as  if  in  the  act  to  question  her.  But  she  was  be- 
forehand with  him  for  the  moment. 

"And  how  hast  thou  fared,  O  Camillo?"  she 
asked,  leaning  back,  with  a  hand  upon  his  either 
shoulder,  to  look  into  his  eyes. 

He  disengaged  himself  sullenly,  avoiding  her  gaze. 
There  could  be  no  doubt  that  the  two  faces  thus  con- 
fronting one  another  belonged  to  brother  and  sister, 
yet  of  the  two  his  was  the  more  effeminate,  and  its 
very  beauty  (he  was  an  excessively  handsome  lad, 
albeit  diminutively  built)  seemed  to  oppose  itself  to 
hers  and  caricature  it,  being  so  like  yet  so  infinitely 
less  noble. 

"  "We  have  fared  ill,"  he  answered,  turning  his 
head  aside,  and  added  with  sudden  petulance,  "  God's 
curse  upon  Pasquale  Paoli,  and  all  his  house!  " 

"He  would  not  receive  you?" 

"  On  the  contrary,  he  made  us  welcome  and  lis- 

329 


SIK    JOH^    CONSTANTINE 

tened  to  all  we  had  to  sav.    "When  I  had  done,  Father 
Domenico  took  up  the  tale." 

"  But  surely,  brother,  when  you  had  given  him  the 
proofs — when  he  heard  all " 

"  The  mischief,  sister,"  he  interrupted,  stabbing 
at  the  ground  with  his  heel  and  stealing  a  sidelong 
glance  at  the  priest,  "  the  mischief  was,  he  had  al- 
ready heard  too  much." 

She  drew  back,  white  in  the  face.  She,  too,  flung 
a  look  at  the  priest,  but  a  more  honest  one,  although 
in  flinging  it  she  shrank  away  from  him.  The  priest, 
a  sensual,  loose-lipped  man,  whose  mere  aspect  in- 
vited one  to  kick  him,  smiled  sideways  and  down- 
wards with  a  deprecating  air,  and  spread  out  his 
hands  as  who  should  say  that  here  was  no  place  for 
a  domestic  discussion. 

I  could  make  no  guess  at  what  the  youth  had 
meant;  but  the  girl's  face  told  me  that  the  stroke 
was  cruel,  and  (as  often  happens  with  the  weak)  his 
own  cruelty  worked  him  into  a  passion. 

"  But  who  is  this  man  with  you?  "  he  demanded, 
the  blood  rushing  to  his  face.  "  And  how  came  you 
alone  with  him,  and  Stephanu,  and  Marc'antonio? 
You  don't  tell  me  that  the  others  have  deserted!  " 

"  No  one  has  deserted,  brother.  You  will  find 
them  all  upon  the  mountain." 

"  And  the  recruits?    Is  this  a  recruit?  " 

330 


THE    FIRST    CHALLENGE 

"  There  are  no  recruits." 

"No  recruits?  By  God,  sister,  this  is  too  bad! 
Has  this  cursed  rumour  spread,  then,  all  over  the 
countryside  that  honest  men  avoid  us  like  a  plague 
— us,  the  Colonne!  "  He  checked  his  tongue  as  she 
drew  herself  up  and  turned  from  him,  before  the 
staring  soldiery,  with  drawn  mouth  and  stony  eyes; 
but  stepped  a  pace  after  her  on  a  fresh  tack  of  rage. 

"  But  you  have  not  answered  me.  Who  is  this 
man,  I  repeat?  And  eh? — but  what  in  God's  name 
have  we  here?"  He  halted,  staring  at  the  half- 
digged  grave  and  Nat's  body  laid  beside  it. 

Marc'antonio  stepped  forward.  "  These  are  two 
prisoners,  O  Prince,  of  whom,  as  you  see,  we  are 
burying  one." 

"Prisoners?    But  whence?  " 

"  From  England,  as  they  tell  us,  O  Prince." 


331 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

THE    TENDER    MERCIES    OF    PRINCE    CAMILLO 

Tyranny  is  the  wish  to  have  in  one  way  what  can  only  be  had  in 
another. — Blaise  Pascal. 

The  young  man  eyed  me  insolently  for  a  moment 
and  turned  again  to  his  sister. 

"  Camilla !  will  you  have  the  goodness  to  ex- 
plain? "  he  demanded. 

But  here,  while  she  hesitated,  searching  her  broth- 
er's face  proudly  yet  pitifully,  as  though  unable  quite 
to  believe  in  the  continued  brutality  of  his  tone,  I 
struck  in. 

"  Pardon  me,  Signore,"  said  I,  "  but  an  explana- 
tion from  me  may  be  shorter." 

"  Eh?    So  you  are  English,  and  speak  Corsican? '' 

"  Or  such  Tuscan,"  answered  I  modestly,  "  as  may 
pass  for  a  poor  attempt  at  it.  Yes,  I  am  English  and 
have  come  hither — as  the  Princess,  your  sister,  will 
tell  you — on  a  political  errand  which  you  may  or 
may  not  consider  important." 

The  Princess,  who  had  turned  and  stood  facing 

332 


PRIXCE  CAMILLO 

her  brother  again,  threw  me  a  quick  look.  "  I  know 
nothing  of  that,"  she  said  hurriedly,  "  save  that 
he  came  with  five  others  in  a  ship  from  England 
and  encamped  at  Paomia  below;  that,  being  taken 
prisoners,  they  professed  to  be  seeking  the  Queen 
Emilia,  to  deliver  her;  and  that  thereupon  of  the 
six  I  let  four  go,  keeping  this  one  as  hostage,  with 
his  friend,  who  has  since  died." 

"  And  the  crown,"  put  in  Stephanu.  "  The  Prin- 
cess has  forgotten  to  mention  the  crown." 

"What  crown?" 

"  The  crown,  sir,"  said  I  boldly,  seeing  the  Prin- 
cess hesitate,  "  of  the  late  King  Theodore  of  Corsica, 
given  by  him  into  my  keeping." 

I  saw  the  priest  start  as  if  flicked  with  a  whip, 
and  shoot  me  a  glance  of  curiosity  from  under  his 
loose  upper  lids.  His  pupil  stepped  up  and  thrust  his 
face  close  to  mine. 

"  £h?    So  you  were  seeking  me?  "  he  demanded. 

"  You  are  mistaken,  sir,"  said  I,  "  whatever  your 
reason  for  such  a  guess.  My  companions — one  of 
them  my  father,  an  Englishman  and  by  name  Sir 
John  Constantine — are  seeking  the  Queen  Emilia, 
whom  they  understand  to  be  held  prisoner  by  the 
Genoese.  Meanwhile  your  sister  detains  me  as  hos- 
tage, and  the  crown  in  pawn." 

I  had  kept  an  eye  on  the  priest  as  I  pronounced 

333 


SIR    JOIIX    COXSTANTIXE 

my  father's  name :  and  again  (or  I  was  mistaken)  the 
pendulous  lids  flickered  slightly. 

"  You  do  not  answer  my  main  question,"  the 
young  man  persisted.  "  What  are  you  doing,  here 
in  Corsica,  with  the  crown  of  King  Theodore  ? " 

"  I  am  the  less  likely  to  answer  that  question,  sir, 
since  you  can  have  no  right  to  ask  it." 

"  '  No  right  to  ask  it? '  "  he  echoed,  stepping  back 
with  a  slow  laugh.  "  No  right  to  ask  it — I!  King 
Theodore's  son !  " 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders.  I  had  a  mind  to  laugh 
back  at  his  impudence,  and  indeed  nothing  but  the 
mercy  of  Heaven  restrained  me  and  so  saved  my  life. 
As  it  was,  I  heard  an  ominous  growl  and  glanced 
around  to  find  the  whole  company  of  bandits  regard- 
ing me  with  lively  disfavour,  whereas  up  to  this  point 
I  had  seemed  to  detect  in  their  eyes  some  hints  of 
leniency,  even  of  goodwill.  By  their  looks  they 
had  disapproved  of  their  master's  abuseful  words  to 
his  sister,  albeit  with  some  reserve  which  I  set  down 
to  their  training.  But  even  more  evidently  they  be- 
lieved to  a  man  in  this  claim  of  his. 

My  gesture,  slight  as  it  was,  gave  his  anger  its 
opportunity.  He  drew  back  a  pace,  his  handsome 
mouth  curving  into  a  snarl. 

"  You  doubt  my  word.  Englishman?  " 

"  I    have    no    evidence,    sir,    for    doubting   King 

334 


PRINCE  CAMILLO 

Theodore's,"  I  answered  as  carelessly  as  I  could, 
hoping  the  while  that  none  of  them  heard  the  beat- 
ing of  my  heart,  loud  in  my  own  ears  as  the  throb- 
throb  of  a  pump,  "  If  you  be  indeed  King  Theo- 
dore's son,  then  your  father " 

"  Say  on,  sir." 

" — Why,  then,  your  father,  sir,  practised  some 
economy  in  telling  me  the  truth.  But  my  father 
and  I  will  be  content  with  the  Queen  Emilia's  simple 
word." 

As  I  began  this  answer  I  saw  the  Princess  turn 
away,  dropping  her  hands.  At  its  conclusion  she 
turned  again,  but  yet  irresolutely. 

"  We  will  find  something  less  than  the  Queen 
Emilia's  word  to  content  you,  my  friend,"  her 
brother  promised,  eyeing  me  and  breathing  hard. 
''Where  is  the  crown,  Stephanu?  " 

"  In  safe-keeping,  O  Prince.  I  beg  leave  to  say, 
too,  that  it  was  I  who  found  it  in  the  Englishman's 
camp  and  brought  it  to  the  Princess." 

"  You  shall  have  your  reward,  my  good  Stephanu. 
You  shall  put  the  bearer,  too,  into  safe-keeping. 
Stand  back,  take  your  gun,  and  shoot  me  this  dog, 
here  beside  his  grave." 

The  Princess  stepped  forward.  "  Stephanu,"  she 
said  quietly,  "  you  will  put  down  that  gun." 

Her  brother  rounded  on  her  with  a  curse.     For 

335 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTIXE 

the  moment  she  did  not  heed,  but  kept  her  eyes  on 
Stephanu,  who  had  stepped  back  with  musket  half- 
lifted  and  finger  already  moving  towards  the  trigger- 
guard. 

"  Stephanu,"  she  repeated,  "  on  my  faith  as  a  Cor- 
sican,  if  you  raise  that  gun  an  inch — even  a  little 
inch — higher,  I  never  speak  to  you  again."  Then 
lifting  a  hand,  she  swung  round  upon  her  brother, 
whose  rage  (I  thank  Heaven)  for  the  moment  choked 
him.  "  Is  it  meet,  think  you,  O  brother,  for  a  King 
of  Corsica  to  kill  his  hostage?" 

"  Is  it  meet,  O  sister,"  he  snarled,  "  for  you,  of 
all  women,  to  champion  a  man — and  a  foreigner — 
before  my  soldiers?     Shoot  him,  Stephanu!  " 

Her  head  went  up  proudly.  "  Stephanu  will  not 
shoot.  And  you,  my  brother,  that  are  so  careful — 
I  sometimes  think  so  overcareful — of  my  honour, 
for  once  bethink  you  that  your  own  deserves  atten- 
tion. This  Englishman  placed  himself  in  my  hands 
freely  as  a  hostage.  From  the  first,  since  you  force 
me  to  say  it,  I  had  no  liking  for  him.  Afterwards, 
when  I  knew  his  errand,  I  hated  him  for  vour  sake: 
I  hated  him  so  that  in  my  rage  I  strained  all  duty 
towards  a  hostage  that  I  might  insult  him.  Marc'an- 
tonio  will  bear  me  witness." 

"  The  Princess  is  speaking  the  truth  before  God," 
said  Marc'antonio  gravely.     "  She  made  the  man  a 

336 


PRINCE  CAMILLO 

keeper  of  swine  yonder."  He  waved  a  hand  towards 
the  sty.  "  And  he  is,  as  I  understand,  a  cavalier  in 
his  own  country." 

"  I  did  more  than  that,"  the  Princess  went  on. 
"  Having  strained  the  compact,  I  tempted  him  to 
break  it — to  shoot  me  or  to  shoot  Marc'antonio,  so 
that  one  or  other  of  us  misrht  be  free  to  kill  him." 

She  paused,  again  with  her  eyes  on  Marc'antonio, 
who  nodded.  "  And  that  also  is  the  truth,"  he  said. 
"  She  put  a  gun  into  his  hands,  that  he  might  kill 
me  for  having  killed  his  friend.  I  did  not  under- 
stand at  the  time." 

"  A  pretty  coward!  "  The  young  man  flung  this 
taunt  out  at  me  viciously;  but  I  had  enough  to  do 
to  hold  myself  steady,  there  by  the  grave's  edge,  and 
did  not  heed  him. 

"  I  do  not  think  he  is  a  coward,"  said  she.  (O,  but 
those  words  were  sweet!  and  for  the  first  time  I 
blessed  her.)  "  But  coward  or  no  coward,  he  is  our 
hostage  and  you  must  not  kill  him." 

He  turned  to  the  priest,  who  all  this  while  had 
stood  with  head  on  one  side,  eyes  aslant,  and  the  air 
and  attitude  of  a  stranger  who,  having  stumbled 
on  a  family  squabble,  politely  awaits  its  termination. 
(This,  I  may  say,  was  the  attitude  I  half-uncon- 
sciously  tried  to  copy,  but  with  the  difference  that  I 
kept  my  eyes  on  the  blue  sky  above  the  tree-tops.) 

337 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTxVNTINE 

"  Father  Domenico,  is  my  sister  right?  And  may 
I  not  kill  this  man?  " 

"  She  is  right,"  answered  the  reverend  father  with 
something  like  a  sigh.  "  You  cannot  kill  him  con- 
sistently with  honour,  though  I  admit  the  provoca- 
tion to  be  great.  The  Princess  appears  to  have  com- 
mitted herself  to  something  like  a  pledge."  He 
paused  here,  and  with  his  tongue  moistened  his  loose 
lips.  "  Moreover,"  he  continued,  "  to  kill  him,  on 
our  present  information,  would  be  inadvisable.  I 
know — at  least  I  have  heard — something  of  this  Sir 
John  Constantine  whom  the  young  man  asserts  to 
be  his  father;  and,  by  what  has  reached  me,  he  is 
capable  of  much." 

"  Do  you  mean,"  asked  the  Prince,  bridling  an- 
grily, "  that  I  am  to  fear  him?  " 

"  ]!^ot  at  all,"  the  priest  answered  quickly,  still 
with  his  eyes  aslant.  "  But,  from  what  I  have  heard, 
he  was  fortunate,  long  ago,  to  earn  the  esteem  of 
the  good  lady  your  mother,  and  " — he  paused  and 
felt  for  his  snuff-box — "  it  would  appear  that  the 
trick  runs  in  the  family." 

"  By  God,  then,  if  I  may  not  kill  him,  I  may  at 
least  improve  on  my  sister's  treatment,"  swore  the 
young  man.  "  Made  him  her  swine-keeper,  did  she? 
I  will  promote  him  a  step.  Here,  you!  Take  and 
truss  him  by  the  heels! — and  fetch  me  a  chain,  one 
of  you,  from  the  forage-shed.  . 

338 


j> 


PRINCE  CA]\[TLLO 

In  the  short  time  it  took  him  to  devise  my  punish- 
ment the  Prince  displayed  a  devihshly  ingenious 
turn  of  mind.  Within  ten  minutes  under  his  care- 
ful directions  they  had  me  down  flat  on  my  back 
in  the  filth  of  the  sty,  with  my  neck  securely  chained 
to  a  post  of  the  palisade,  my  legs  outstretched,  and 
either  ankle  strapped  to  a  peg.  My  hands  they  left 
free,  to  supply  me  (as  the  Prince  explained)  with 
food  and  drink:  that  is  to  say,  to  reach  for  the  loaf 
and  the  pannikin  of  water  which  Marc'antonio,  un- 
der orders,  fetched  from  the  hut  and  laid  beside  me. 
Marc'antonio's  punishment  (for  bearing  witness  to 
the  truth)  was  to  be  my  gaoler  and  sty-keeper  in  my 
room.  He  was  promised,  moreover,  the  job  of  hang- 
ing me  as  soon  as  my  comrades  returned. 

In  this  pleasant  posture  they  left  me,  whether 
under  surveillance  or  not  I  could  not  tell,  being  un- 
able to  turn  my  head  and  scarce  able  even  to  move 
it  an  inch  either  way. 

So  I  lay  and  stared  up  at  the  sky,  until  the  blazing 
sun  outstared  me.  I  wall  dwell  on  none  of  my  tor- 
ments but  this,  which  towards  midday  became  in- 
tolerable. Certainly  I  had  either  died  or  gone  mad 
under  it,  but  that  my  hands  were  free  to  shield  me; 
and  these  I  turned  in  the  blistering  glare  as  a  cook 
turns  a  steak  on  the  gridiron.  Now  and  again  I 
dabbled  them  in  the  pannikin  beside  me,  verv  care- 
fully,  eking  out  the  short  supply  of  water. 

339 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

I  had  neither  resisted  nor  protested.  I  hugged 
this  thought  and  meant,  if  die  I  must,  to  die  hugging 
it.  I  had  challenged  the  girl,  promising  her  to  be  pa- 
tient. To  be  sure  protest  or  resistance  would  have 
been  idle.  But  I  had  kept  my  word.  I  don't  doubt 
that  from  time  to  time  a  moan  escaped  me.  ...  I 
could  not  believe  that  Marc'antonio  was  near  me, 
watching.  I  heard  no  sound  at  all,  no  distant  voice 
or  bugle-call  from  the  camp  on  the  mountain.  The 
woods  were  silent  .  .  .  silent  as  Nat,  yonder,  in  his 
grave.  Surely  none  but  a  fiend  could  sit  and  watch 
me  without  a  word.  .  .  . 

Towards  evening  I  broke  oif  a  crust  of  bread  and 
ate  it.  The  water  I  husbanded.  I  might  need  it 
worse  by  and  by,  if  Marc'antonio  delayed  to  come. 

But  what  if  no  one  should  come? 

I  had  been  dozing — or  maybe  was  wandering  in 
slight  delirium — when  this  question  wrote  itself 
across  my  dreams  in  letters  of  fire,  so  bright  that  it 
cleared  and  lit  up  my  brain  in  a  flash,  chasing  away 
all  other  terrors.  .  .  . 

Mercifully,  it  was  soon  answered.  Far  up  the 
glade  a  horn  sounded — my  swine-horn,  blown  no 
doubt  by  Marc'antonio.  The  hogs  were  coming. 
.  .  .  Well,  I  must  use  my  hands  to  keep  them  at 
their  distance. 

I  listened  with  all  my  ears.     Yes,  I  caught  the 

340 


PRIXCE  CAMILLO 

sound  of  their  grunting;  it  came  nearer  and  nearer, 
and — was  that  a  footstep,  close  at  hand,  behind  the 
palisade? 

Something  dropped  at  my  side — dropped  in  the 
mire  with  a  soft  thud.  I  stretched  out  my  hand, 
felt  for  it,  clutched  it. 

It  was  a  file. 

My  heart  gave  a  leap.  I  had  found  a  friend,  then ! 
— but  in  whom?  Was  it  Marc'antonio?  No:  for  I 
heard  his  voice  now,  fifty  yards  away,  marshalling 
and  cursing  the  hogs.  His  footstep  w^as  near  the 
gate.  As  he  opened  it  and  the  hogs  rushed  in,  I 
slipped  the  file  beneath  me,  under  my  shoulder- 
blades. 

The  first  of  the  hogs,  as  he  ran  by  me,  put  a 
hoof  into  my  pannikin  and  upset  it;  and  while  I 
struck  out  at  him,  to  fend  him  aside,  another  brute 
gobbled  up  my  last  morsel  of  crust.  The  clatter  of 
the  pannikin  brought  Marc'antonio  to  my  side.  For 
a  while  he  stood  there  looking  down  on  me  in  the 
dusk;  then  walked  off  through  the  sty  to  the  hut 
and  returned  with  two  hurdles  which  he  rested  over 
me,  one  against  another,  tentwise,  driving  their 
stakes  an  inch  or  two  into  the  soil.  Slight  as  the 
fence  was,  it  would  protect  me  from  the  hogs 
and  I  thanked  him.  He  growled  ungraciously, 
and,    picking   up   the   pannikin,    slouched    off   upon 

341 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTAXTINE 

a  second  errand.  Again  when  he  brought  it  re- 
plenished, and  a  fresh  loaf  of  bread  with  it,  I 
thanked  him,  and  again  his  only  answer  was  a 
growl, 

I  heard  him  latch  the  gate  and  walk  away  towards 
the  hut.  Night  was  falling  on  the  valley.  Through 
my  roof  of  hurdles  a  star  or  two  shone  down  palely. 
Now  was  my  time.  I  slipped  a  hand  beneath  me  and 
recovered  my  file — my  blessed  file. 

The  chain  about  my  neck  was  not  very  stout.  I 
had  felt  its  links  with  my  fingers  a  good  score  of 
times  in  efforts,  some  deliberate,  others  frantic,  to 
loosen  it  even  by  a  little.  Loosen  it  I  could  not:  the 
Prince  had  done  his  work  too  cleverly:  but  by  my 
calculation  an  hour  would  suffice  me  to  file  it 
through. 

But  an  hour  passed,  and  two  hours,  and  still  I 
lay  staring  up  at  the  stars,  listening  to  the  hogs  as 
they  rubbed  flanks  and  chose  and  fought  for  their 
lairs:  still  I  lay  staring,  with  teeth  clenched  and  the 
file  idle  in  my  hand. 

I  had  challenged,  and  I  had  sworn,  "  Bethink 
you  now  what  pains  you  can  put  upon  me.  .  .  ." 
These  tortures  were  not  of  her  devising;  but  I  would 
hold  her  to  them,  I  was  her  hostage,  and,  though  it 
killed  me,  I  would  hold  her  to  the  last  inch  of  her 
bond.     As  a  Catholic,  she  must  believe  in  hell,     I 

342 


PRINCE  CAMILLO 

would  carry  my  wrong  even  to  hell  then,  and  meet 
her  there  with  it  and  master  her. 

I  was  mad.  After  hours  of  such  a  crucifixion  a 
man  must  needs  be  mad.  ..."  Prosper,  lad,  your 
ideas  are  nought  and  your  ambitions  earth:  but  you 
have  a  streak  of  damned  obstinacy  which  makes  me 
not  altogether  hopeless  of  you!  "  These  had  been 
Xat's  words,  a  month  ago;  and  'Na.t  lay  in  his  grave 
yonder.  .  .  .  The  cramp  in  my  legs,  the  fiery  pain 
ringing  my  neck,  met  and  ran  over  me  in  waves  of 
total  anguish.  At  the  point  where  my  will  failed 
me  to  hold  out,  the  power  failed  me  (I  thank 
Heaven)  to  lift  a  hand.  Yet  the  will  struggled 
feebly;  struggled  on  to  the  verge  over  which  all  sen- 
sation dropped  plumb,  as  into  a  pit. 


I  unclosed  my  eyes  upon  the  grey  dawn ;  but  upon 
what  dawn  I  knew  not,  whether  of  earth  or  purga- 
tory or  hell  itself.  They  saw  it  swimming  in  a  vague 
light:  but  my  ears,  from  a  sound  as  of  rushing  wa- 
ters, awoke  to  a  silence  on  which  a  small  footfall 
broke,  a  few  yards  aw^ay.  Marc'antonio  must  have 
unpenned  the  hogs;  for  the  sty  was  empty.  And 
the  hogs  in  their  rush  must  have  thrown  down  the 
hurdles  protecting  me;  for  these  lay  collapsed,  the 
one  at  my  side,  the  other  across  me. 

343 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTmE 

The  light  footfall  drew  close  and  halted.  I  looked 
up  into  the  face  of  the  Princess. 

She  came,  picking  her  way  across  the  mire;  and 
with  caution,  as  if  she  feared  to  be  overheard. 
Clearly  she  had  expected  to  find  the  sty  empty,  for 
even  to  my  dazed  senses  her  dismay  was  evident  as 
she  caught  sight  of  me  beneath  the  hurdle. 

"  You  have  not  gone !  Oh,  w^hy  have  you  not 
gone?  " 

She  was  on  her  knees  beside  me  in  the  filth.  I 
heard  her  calling  to  Marc'antonio,  and  presently 
Marc'antonio  came,  obedient  as  ever,  yet  protesting. 

"  He  has  not  gone !  "  She  moved  her  hands  with 
a  wringing  gesture. 

I  tried  to  speak,  but  for  answer  could  only  spread 
my  hand,  which  still  grasped  the  file:  and  for  days 
after  it  kept  a  blue  weal  bitten  across  the  palm. 

I  heard  Marc'antonio's  voice  protesting  as  she  took 
the  file  and  sawed  with  it  frantically  across  my  neck- 
chain. 

"  But  he  must  escape  and  hide,  at  least." 

"  He  cannot.  Princess.  The  torture  has  worn  him 
out." 

"  It  were  better  he  died,  then.    For  I  must  go." 

"It  were  better  he  died.  Princess:  but  his  youth 
is  tough.  And  that  you  must  go  is  above  all  things 
necessary.     The  Prince  would  kill  me.  .  .  ." 

344 


mg 


PKINCE  CAMILLO 
A  little  while,  Marc'antonio!     The  file  is  work- 


"  To  what  end,  Princess? — since  time  is  wanting. 
The  bngle  will  call — it  may  call  now  at  any  mo- 
ment. And  if  the  Prince  should  miss  you —  In- 
deed it  were  better  that  he  died " 

Their  voices  swam  on  my  ear  through  giddy  whirls 
of  mist.  I  heard  him  persuade  her  to  go — at  the 
last  insist  upon  her  going.     Still  the  file  worked. 

Suddenly  it  ceased  working.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
they  both  had  withdrawn,  and  my  neck  still  re- 
mained in  bondage,  though  my  legs  were  free.  I 
knew  that  my  legs  were  free,  though  I  had  not  the 
power  to  test  this  by  drawing  them  up.  I  tried  once, 
and  closed  my  eyes,  swooning  with  pain. 

Upon  the  swoon  broke  a  shattering  blow,  across 
my  legs  and  below  the  laiees;  a  blow  that  lifted  my 
body  to  clutch  with  both  hands  upon  night  and  fall 
back  in  agony  upon  black  unconsciousness. 


345 


CHAPTER   XIX 


HOW    MAEC' ANTONIO    NURSED    ME    AND    GAVE    ME 

COUNSEL 


Yet  sometimes  famous  Princes  like  thyself, 

Drawn  by  report,  adventurous  by  desire, 

Tell  thee,  with  speechless  tongues  and  semblance  pale, 

That  without  covering,  save  yon  field  of  stars, 

They  here  stand  martyrs,  slain  in  Cupid's  wars; 

And  with  dead  cheeks  advise  thee  to  desist 

For  going  on  Death's  net,  whom  none  resist. 

— Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre. 

His  honour  forbidding  him  to  kill  me,  the  Prince 
Camillo  had  given  orders  to  break  my  legs:  and  since 
to  abandon  me  in  this  plight  went  against  the  con- 
science of  his  followers  (and  even,  it  is  possible, 
against  his  own),  he  had  left  Marc'antonio  behind 
to  nurse  me — thus  gratifying  a  second  spite.  The 
Prince  was  an  ingenious  young  man. 

So  much  I  gathered  in  faint  intervals  between  an- 
guish while  Marc'antonio  bound  me  with  rude  splints 
of  his  own  manufacture.  Yet  he  said  little  and  did 
his  surgery,  though  not  ungently,  with  a  taciturn 
frown  which  I  set  do^vn  to  moroseness,  having  learnt 
somehow  that  the  bandits  had  broken  up  their  camp 

346 


HOW  marc'a:n^toxio  xuksed  me 

on  the  mountain  and  marched  off,  leaving  us  two 
alone. 

"  Did  the  Princess  know  of  this?  "  I  managed  to 
ask,  and  I  believe  this  was  my  first  intelligible  ques- 
tion. 

Marc'antonio  paused  before  answering.  "  She 
knew  that  you  were  to  be  hurt,  but  not  the 
manner  of  it.  It  was  she  that  brought  you  the 
file,  by  stealth.  Why  did  you  not  use  it,  and 
escape?  " 

"She  brought  me  the  file?"  I  knew  it  already, 
but  found  a  fierce  satisfaction  in  the  words.  "  And 
she — and  you — tried  to  use  it  upon  ray  chain  here 
and  deliver  me:  I  forced  you  to  that,  my  friends!  As 
for  using  it  myself,  you  heard  what  I  promised  her, 
yesterday,  before  her  brother  came." 

"I  heard  you  talk  very  foolishly;  and  now  you 
have  done  worse  than  foolishly.  I  do  not  under- 
stand you  at  all — no,  by  the  Mother  of  God,  I  do 
not!  You  had  the  whole  night  for  filing  at  your 
chain :  and  it  would  have  been  better  for  you,  and  in 
the  end  for  her." 

"  And  for  you  also,  Marc'antonio,"  I  added. 

He  was  silent. 

"  And  for  you  also,  Marc'antonio?  "  I  repeated  it 
as  a  question. 

"  Your  escape  would  have  been  put  down  to  me, 

347 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

Englishman.  I  had  provided  for  that,"  he  answered 
simply. 

"  Forgive  me,"  I  muttered,  thrown  back  upon  sud- 
den contrition.  "  I  was  thinking  only  that  you  must 
feel  it  a  punishment  to  be  left  alone  with  me.  I  had 
forgot " 

"  It  is  hard,"  he  interrupted,  "  to  bear  everything 
in  mind  when  one  is  young."  His  tone  was  quiet, 
decisive,  as  of  one  stating  a  fact  of  common  knowl- 
edge: but  the  reproof  cut  me  like  a  knife. 

"The  Princess  has  gone  too?"  I  asked. 

"  She  has  gone.  They  are  all  gone.  That  is  why 
it  would  have  been  better  for  her  too  that  you  had 
escaped." 

I  pondered  this  for  a  minute.  "  You  mean,"  said 
I,  "  that — always  supposing  the  Prince  had  not 
killed  you  in  his  rage — you  would  now  be  at  her 
side?" 

He  nodded. 

"  Still,  she  has  Stephanu.  Stephanu  will  do  his 
best,"  I  suggested. 

"  Against  what,  eh  ?  "  He  put  this  poser  to  me, 
turning  with  angry  eyes,  but  ended  on  a  short  laugh 
of  contempt.  "  Do  not  try  make-believe  with  me, 
O  Englishman." 

"  There  is  one  thing  I  know,"  said  I  doggedly, 
"  that  the  Princess  is  in  trouble  or  danger.     And  a 

348 


HOW    MARC'AXTOXIO    NURSED    ME 

second  thing  I  know,  that  you  and  Stephanu  are  her 
champions.  But  a  third  thing,  which  I  do  not  know, 
in  why  you  and  Steplianu  hate  one  another." 

"  And  yet  that  should  have  been  the  easiest  guess 
of  the  three,"  said  he,  rising  abruptly  and  taking  first 
a  dozen  paces  towards  the  hut,  then  a  dozen  back  to 
the  shadow  of  the  chestnut-tree  against  the  bole  of 
which  my  head  rested  as  he  had  laid  me,  having 
borne  me  thither  from  the  sty. 

"  Campioni?  That  is  a  good  word  and  I  thank 
you  for  it,  Englishman.  Yet  you  wonder  why  I  hate 
Stephanu?  Listen.  Were  you  ever  in  Florence,  in 
the  Boboli  gardens?  " 

"  Never.     But  why?  " 

"  Mbe!  I  have  travelled,  for  my  part."  Marc'an- 
tonio  now  and  alwavs  mentioned  his  travels  with 
an  innocent  boastfulness.  "  Well,  in  the  gardens 
there  you  will  find  a  fountain,  and  on  either  side  of 
it  a  statue — the  statues  of  two  old  kings.  They  sit 
there,  those  two,  carved  in  stone,  face  to  face  across 
the  fountain;  and  with  faces  so  full  of  hate  that  I 
declare  it  gives  you  a  shiver  down  the  spine — all 
the  worse,  if  you  will  understand,  because  their  eyes 
have  no  sight  in  them.  Now  the  story  goes  that 
these  two  kings  in  life  were  friends  of  a  princess  of 
Tuscany  far  younger  than  themselves,  and  cham- 
pioned her,  and  established  her  house  while  she  was 

349 


Sm    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

weak  and  her  enemies  were  strong;  and  that  after- 
wards in  gratitude  she  caused  these  statues  to  be  set 
up  beside  the  fountain.  Another  story  (to  me  it 
sounds  like  a  child's  tale)  says  that  at  first  there 
was  no  fountain,  and  that  the  princess  knew  noth- 
ing of  the  hatred  between  these  old  men;  but 
the  sculptor  knew.  Having  left  the  order  with  him, 
she  married  a  husband  of  her  own  age  and  lived  for 
years  at  a  foreign  court.  At  length  she  returned 
to  Florence  and  led  her  husband  one  day  out  through 
the  garden  to  show  him  the  statues,  when  for  the 
first  time  she  saw  what  the  sculptor  had  done  and 
knew  for  the  first  time  that  these  dead  men  had 
hated  one  another  for  her  sake;  whereupon  she  let 
fall  one  tear  which  became  the  source  of  the  foun- 
tain. To  me  all  this  part  of  the  story  is  foolishness: 
but  that  I  and  Stephanu  hate  one  another  not  other- 
wise than  those  two  old  kings,  and  for  no  very  dif- 
ferent cause,  is  God's  truth,  cavalier." 

"You  are  devoted  to  her,  you  two?"  I  asked, 
tempting  him  to  continue. 

He  gazed  down  on  me  for  a  moment  with  im- 
measurable contempt.  "  I  give  you  a  figure,  and 
you  would  put  it  into  words!  Words!  "  He  spat. 
"  And  yet  it  is  the  truth,  Englishman,  that  once  she 
called  me  her  second  father.  '  Her  second  father  ' — 
I  have  repeated  that  to  Stephanu  once  or  twice  when 

350 


HOW    MARC'AXTONIO    XUKSED    ME 

I  have  lost  my  temper  (a  rare  thing  with  me).  You 
should  see  him  turn  blue!  " 

I  could  get  no  more  out  of  Marc'antonio  that  day, 
nor  indeed  did  the  pain  I  suffered  allow  me  to  con- 
tinue the  catechism.  A  little  before  night  fell  he 
lifted  me  again  and  carried  me  to  a  bed  of  clean- 
smelling  heather  and  fern  he  had  prepared  within 
the  hut;  and,  all  the  night  througii,  the  slightest 
moan  from  me  found  him  alert  to  give  me  drink  or 
shift  me  to  an  easier  posture.  Our  total  solitude 
seemed  from  the  first  to  breed  a  certain  good-fellow- 
ship between  us:  neither  next  day  nor  for  many 
days  did  he  remit  or  falter  in  his  care  for  me.  But 
his  manner,  though  not  ungentle,  was  taciturn.  He 
seemed  to  carry  about  a  weight  on  his  mind; 
his  brow  wore  a  constant  frown,  vexed  and  un- 
happy. Once  or  twice  I  caught  him  talking  to  him- 
self. 

"  To  be  sure  it  was  enough  to  madden  all  the 
saints:  and  the  Prince  is  not  one  of  them.  .  .  ." 

"  What  was  enough  to  madden  all  the  saints,  O 
Marc'antonio?"  I  asked  from  my  bed. 

Already  he  had  turned  in  some  confusion,  sur- 
prised by  the  sound  of  his  own  voice.  He  was  down 
on  hands  and  knees,  and  had  been  blowing  upon  the 
embers  of  a  wood  fire,  kindled  under  a  pan  of  goat's 
milk.     The  goat  herself  browsed  in  the  sunlight  be- 

351 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

yond  the  doorway,  in  the  circuit  allowed  by  a  twenty- 
foot  tether. 

"  What  was  enough  to  madden  all  the  saints,  O 
Marc'antonio? " 

"  Why,"  said  he  savagely,  "  your  standing  up  to 
him  and  denying  his  birth  and  his  sister's  before  all 
the  crowd.  I  did  not  think  that  anything  could  have 
saved  you." 

"  If  I  remember,  I  added  that  the  Queen  Emilia's 
bare  word  would  be  enough  for  me." 

"  So.  But  you  denied  it  on  his  father's,  and  that 
is  what  his  enemies,  the  Paolists  all,  would  give 
their  ears  to  hear — yes,  and  Pasquale  Paoli  himself, 
though  he  passes  for  a  just  man." 

"  Marc'antonio,"  said  I  seriously,  "  are  the  Prince 
and  Piincess  in  truth  the  children  of  King  Theo- 
dore? " 

"  As  God  hears  me,  cavalier,  they  are  his  twin 
children,  born  in  the  convent  of  Santa  Maria  di  Fos- 
ciandora,  in  the  valley  of  the  Serchio,  some  leagues 
to  the  north  of  Florence;  and  on  the  feast-day  of 
Saint  Mark  these  sixteen  years  ago." 

"  Then  King  Theodore  either  knew  nothing  of  it, 
or  he  was  a  liar." 

"  He  was  a  liar,  cavalier." 

"  Stay  a  moment.  I  have  a  mind  to  tell  you  the 
whole  story  as  it  came  to  me,  and  as  I  should  have 

352 


HOW    MARC'ANTONIO    NURSED    .AlE 

told  it  to  the  Prince  Camillo,  had  he  treated  me  with 
decent  courtesy." 

Marc'antonio  ceased  blowing  the  fire  and,  sitting 
back  on  his  heels,  disposed  himself  to  listen.  Very 
briefly  I  told  him  of  my  journey  to  London,  my 
visit  to  the  Fleet,  and  how  I  received  the  crown  with 
Theodore's  blessing.  "  That  he  denied  having  chil- 
dren I  will  not  say:  but  (I  remember  well)  my  father 
took  it  for  granted  that  he  had  no  children,  and  he 
said  nothing  to  the  contrary.  Indeed  on  any  other 
assumption  his  gift  of  the  crown  to  me  would  have 
been  meaningless." 

Marc'antonio  nodded,  following  my  argument. 

"  But  there  is  another  difficulty,"  I  went  on. 
"  My  father,  who  does  not  lie,  told  me  once  that 
King  Theodore  returned  to  the  island  in  the  year 
'thirty -nine,  where  he  stayed  but  for  a  week;  and 
that  not  until  a  year  later  did  his  Queen  escape  across 
to  Tuscany." 

But  here  Marc'antonio  shook  his  head  vigorously. 
"  Whoever  told  your  father  that,  told  him  an  un- 
truth. The  Queen  fled  from  Porto  Vecchio  in  that 
same  winter  of  'thirty-nine,  a  few  days  before  Christ- 
mas.    I  myself  steered  the  boat  that  carried  her." 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  I,  "  my  father  may  have  been 
told  this  also  by  King  Theodore." 

''  The    good    sisters    of   the    convent,"    continued 

353 


SIR    JOHX    CONSTANTINE 

Marc'antonio,  "  received  the  Queen  and  did  all  that 
was  necessary  for  her.  But  among  them  must  have 
been  one  who  loved  the  Genoese  or  their  gold:  for 
when  the  children  were  but  ten  days  old  they  van- 
ished, having  been  stolen  and  handed  secretly  to  the 
Genoese — yes,  cavalier,  out  of  the  Queen's  own 
sleeping-chamber.  Little  doubt  had  we  they  were 
dead — for  why  should  their  enemies  spare  them? 
And  never  should  we  have  recovered  trace  of  them 
but  for  the  Father  Domenico,  who  knew  what  had 
become  of  them  (having  learnt  it,  no  doubt,  among 
the  sisters'  confessions,  to  receive  which  he  visited 
the  convent)  and  that  they  were  alive  and  un- 
harmed: but  for  his  oath's  sake  he  kept  the  secret, 
or  else  waiting  for  the  time  to  ripen." 

"  Then  King  Theodore  may  also  have  believed 
them  dead,"  I  suggested,  "  Let  us  do  him  that  jus- 
tice. Or  he  may  never  have  known  that  they 
existed." 

Marc'antonio  brushed  this  aside  with  a  wave  of  his 
hand.  "  The  cavalier,"  he  answered  with  dignity, 
"  may  have  heard  me  allude  to  my  travels?  " 

"  Once  or  twice." 

"  The  first  time  that  I  crossed  the  Alps  " — great 
Hannibal  might  have  envied  the  roll  in  Marc'an- 
tonio's  voice — "  I  bore  the  King  tidings  of  his 
good    fortune.      It    was    Stcphanu    who    followed, 

354 


HOW    MARC'AXTOXIO    NURSED    ME 

a  week  later,  with  the  tale  that  the  children  were 
stolen." 

"  Then  Theodore  did  believe  them  dead." 

"At  the  time,  cavalier;  at  the  time,  no  doubt. 
But  more  than  twelve  years  later,  being  in  Brus- 
sels— "  Here  Marc'antonio  pulled  himself  up,  with 
a  sudden  dark  flush  and  a  look  of  confusion. 

"  Go  on,  my  friend.  You  were  saying  that  twelve 
years  later,  happening  to  be  in  Brussels " 

"  By  the  merest  chance,  cavalier.  Before  retiring 
to  England  King  Theodore  spent  the  most  of  his 
exile  in  Flanders  and  the  Low  Countries:  and  in 
Brussels,  as  it  happened,  I  had  word  of  him  and 
learnt — but  without  making  myself  known  to  him 
— that  he  was  seeking  his  two  children." 

"  Seeking  them  in  Brussels?  " 

"  At  a  venture  no  doubt,  cavalier.  Put  the  case 
that  you  were  seeking  two  children,  of  whom  you 
knew  only  that  they  were  alive  and  somewhere  in 
Europe — like  two  fleas,  as  your  might  say,  in  a  bun- 
dle of  straw " 

I  looked  at  Marc'antonio  and  saw  that  he  was 
lying,  but  politely  forbore  to  tell  him  so. 

"  Then  Theodore  knew  that  his  children  were 
alive?  "  said  I,  musing.  "  Yet  he  gave  my  father  to 
understand  that  he  had  no  children." 

"  Mbe,  but  he  was  a  great  liar,  that  Theodore ! 

355 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

Always  when  it  profited,  and  sometimes  for  the 
pleasure  of  it." 

"  N^evertheless,  to  disinherit  his  own  son !  " 

Marc'antonio's  shoulders  went  up  to  his  ears. 
"  He  knew  well  enough  what  comedy  he  was  play- 
ing. Disinherit  his  own  son?  We  Corsieans,  he 
might  be  sure,  would  never  permit  that:  and  mean- 
while your  father's  money  bought  him  out  of  prison. 
Ajo,  it  is  simple  as  milking  the  she-goat  yonder!  " 

"  If  you  knew  my  father  better,  Marc'antonio,  you 
would  find  it  not  altogether  so  simple  as  you  sup- 
pose. King  Theodore  might  have  told  my  father 
that  these  children  lived,  and  my  father  would  yet 
have  bought  his  freedom  for  their  sake;  yes,  and 
helped  him  to  the  last  shilling  and  the  last  drop  of 
blood  to  restore  them  to  Corsica  and  to  the  Queen 
their  mother." 

"  Verily,  cavalier,  I  knew  your  father  to  be  a 
madman,"  said  Marc'antonio  gravely  after  consider- 
ing my  words  for  a  while.  "  But  such  madness  as 
you  speak  of,  who  could  take  into  account?  " 

"Eh,  Marc'antonio?  What  acquaintance  have 
you  with  my  father  that  you  should  call  him 
mad?" 

"  I  remember  him  well,  cavalier,  and  his  long 
sojourning  with  my  late  master  the  Count  Ugo  at 
his  palace  of  Casalabrive  above  the  Taravo,  and  the 

356 


HOW    MARC'ANTONIO    NURSED    ME 

love  there  was  between  him  and  my  young  mistress 
that  is  now  the  Queen  Emilia.  Lovers  they  were  for 
all  eyes  to  see  but  the  old  Count's.  Mbe!  we  all 
gossiped  of  it,  we  servants  and  clansmen  of  the 
Colonne — even  I,  that  kept  the  goats  over  Bicchi- 
vano,  on  the  road  leading  up  to  the  palace,  and 
watched  them  as  they  walked  together,  and  was  of 
an  age  to  think  of  these  things.  A  handsomer  couple 
none  could  wish  to  see,  and  we  watched  them  with 
goodwill;  for  the  Englishman  touched  her  hand  with 
a  kind  of  worship  as  a  devout  man  touches  his  beads, 
and  they  told  me  that  in  his  own  country  he  owned 
great  estates — greater  even  than  the  Count's.  In- 
deed, cavalier,  had  your  father  thought  less  of  love 
and  more  of  ambition  there  is  no  saying  but  he 
might  have  reached  out  for  the  crown,  and  his  love 
would  have  come  to  him  afterwards.  But,  as  the 
saying  goes,  while  Peter  stalked  the  muf ro  Paul  stole 
the  mountain :  and  again  says  the  proverb,  '  Bury  not 
your  treasure  in  another's  orchard.'  Along  came 
this  Theodore  and  with  a  few  lies  took  the  crown 
and  the  jewel  with  it.  So  your  father  went,  and 
has  come  again  after  many  years;  and  at  the  first 
I  did  not  recognise  him,  for  time  has  dealt  heavily 
with  us  all.  But  afterwards,  and  before  he  spoke 
his  name,  I  knew  him — partly  by  his  great  stature, 
partly  by  his  carriage,  and  partly,  cavalier,  by  the 

357 


SIR   JOHJ^    CONSTANTINE 

likeness  your  youth  bears  to  his  as  I  remember  it. 
So  you  have  the  tale." 

"  And  in  the  telling,  Marc'antonio,"  said  I,  "  it 
appears  that  you,  who  champion  his  children,  bear 
Theodore's  memory  no  goodwill." 

"  Theodore!  "  Marc'antonio  spat  again.  "  If  he 
were  alive  here  and  before  me,  I  would  shoot  him 
where  he  stood." 

"For  what  cause?"  I  asked,  surprised  by  the 
shake  in  his  voice. 

But  Marc'antonio  turned  to  the  fire  again,  and 
would  not  answer. 

•  *  •  •  • 

As  I  remember,  some  three  or  four  days  passed 
before  I  contrived  to  draw  him  into  further  talk; 
and,  curiously  enough,  after  trying  him  a  dozen 
times  per  ambages  (as  old  Mr.  Grylls  would  have 
said)  and  in  vain,  on  the  point  of  despair  I  suc- 
ceeded with  a  few  straight  words. 

"  Marc'antonio,"  said  I,  "  I  have  a  notion  about 
King  Theodore." 

"  I  am  listening,  cavalier." 

"  — A  suspicion  only,  and  horribly  to  his  dis- 
credit." 

"  It  is  the  likelier  to  be  near  the  truth." 

"  Could  he — think  you — have  sold  his  children  to 
the  Genoese?  " 

358 


HOW    MARC'AXTOXTO    XTRSED    :\rE 

Marc'antonio  cast  a  quick  glance  at  me.  "  I  have 
thought  of  that,"  he  said  quietlj.  "  He  was  capable 
of  it." 

"  It  would  explain  why  they  were  allowed  to  live. 
A  father,  however  deep  his  treachery,  would  make 
that  a  part  of  the  bargain." 

Marc'antonio  nodded. 

"  I  would  give  something,"  I  went  on,  "  to  know 
how  Father  Domenico  came  by  the  secret.  By  con- 
fession of  one  of  the  sisters,  you  suggest.  Well,  it 
may  be  so.  But  there  might  be  another  way — only 
take  warning  that  I  do  not  like  this  Father  Do- 
menico  " 

"  I  am  listening." 

"  Is  it  not  possible  that  he  himself  contrived 
the  kidnapping — always  with  King  Theodore's  con- 
sent? " 

"  Not  possible,"  decided  Marc'antonio  after  a  mo- 
ment's thought.  "  Xo  more  than  you  do  I  like  the 
man:  but  consider.  It  was  he  who  sent  us  to  find 
and  bring  them  back  to  Corsica.  At  this  moment, 
when  (as  I  will  confess  to  you)  all  odds  are  against 
it,  he  holds  to  their  cause;  he,  a  comfortable  priest 
and  a  loose  liver,  has  taken  to  the  bush  and  fares 
hardly  for  his  zeal." 

"  My  good  friend,"  said  I,  "  you  reason  as  though 
a  traitor  must  needs  work  always  in  a  straight  line 

359 


SIR    JOHX    CONSTANTINE 

and  never  quarrel  with  his  paymaster:  whereas  by 
the  very  nature  of  treachery  these  are  two  of  the 
unlikeliest  things  in  the  world.  Now,  putting  this 
aside,  tell  me  if  you  think  your  Prince  Camillo  the 
better  for  Father  Domenico's  company?  .  .  .  You 
do  not,  I  see." 

"  I  will  not  say  that,"  answered  Marc'antonio 
slowly.  "  The  Prince  has  good  qualities.  He  will 
make  a  Corsican  in  time.  But,  I  own  to  you,  he  has 
been  ill  brought  up,  and  before  ever  he  met  with 
Father  Domenico.  As  yet  he  thinks  only  of  his 
own  will,  like  a  spoilt  child;  and  of  his  pleasures, 
which  are  not  those  of  a  king  such  as  he  desires 
to  be." 

Said  I  at  a  guess,  " — But  the  pleasures — eh, 
Marc'antonio? — such  as  a  forward  boy  learns  on  the 
pavements;  of  Brussels  for  example?  " 

I  thought  for  the  moment  he  would  have  knifed 
me,  so  fiercely  he  started  back  and  then  craned  for- 
w'ard  at  me,  showing  his  white  teeth.  I  saw  that 
my  luck  with  him  hung  on  this  moment. 

"  Tell  me,"  I  said,  facing  him  and  dragging  hard 
on  the  hurry  in  my  voice,  "  and  remember  that  I 
owe  no  love  to  this  cub.  You  may  be  loyal  to  him 
as  vou  will,  but  I  am  the  Princess's  man,  I!  You 
heard  me  promise  her.  Tell  me,  why  has  she  no 
recruits?  " 

360 


HOW    MARC'ANTONIO    NURSED    ME 

He  drew  back  yet  farther,  still  with  his  teeth 
bared.     "  Am  /  not  her  man?  "  he  almost  hissed. 

"  So  you  tell  me,"  I  answered  with  a  scornful 
laugh,  brazening  it  out.  "  You  are  her  man,  and 
Stephanu  is  her  man,  and  the  Prince  too,  and  the 
Father  Domenico  no  doubt.  Yes,  you  are  all  her 
men,  you  four:  but  why  can  she  collect  no  others?  " 
I  paused  a  moment  and,  holding  up  a  hand,  checked 
them  off  contemptuously  upon  my  fingers.  "  Four 
of  you!  and  among  you  at  least  one  traitor!  Stop!  " 
said  I,  as  he  made  a  motion  to  protest.  "  You  four 
— you  and  Stephanu  and  the  Prince  and  Era  Do- 
menico— know  something  which  it  concerns  her  fame 
to  keep  hidden ;  you  four,  and  no  other  that  I  wot  of. 
You  are  all  her  men,  her  champions:  and  yet  this 
secret  leaks  out  and  poisons  all  minds  against  the 
cause.  Because  of  it,  Paoli  will  hare  no  dealing 
with  you.  Because  of  it,  though  you  raise  your  stand- 
ard on  the  mountains,  no  Corsicans  flock  to  it. 
Pah!  "  I  went  on,  my  scorn  confounding  him,  "I 
called  you  her  champion,  the  other  day !  Be  so  good 
as  consider  that  I  spoke  derisively.  Four  pretty 
champions  she  has,  indeed;  of  whom  one  is  a  traitor, 
and  the  other  three  have  not  the  spirit  to  track  him 
down  and  kill  him!  " 

Marc'antonio  stood  close  bv  me  now.  To  mv 
amazement  he  was  shaking  like  a  man  with  the  ague. 

361 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

"  Cavalier,  you  do  not  understand,"  he  protested 
hoarsely:  but  his  eyes  were  wistful,  as  though  he 
hoped  for  something  which  yet  he  dared  not  hear. 

"Eh?  I  do  not  understand?  Well,  now,  listen 
to  me.  I  am  her  man,  too,  but  in  a  different  fashion. 
You  heard  what  I  swore  to  her,  that  day,  beside  my 
friend's  body;  that  whether  in  hate  or  love,  and  be 
her  need  what  it  might,  I  would  help  her.  Hear  me 
repeat  it,  lying  here  with  my  both  legs  broken, 
helpless  as  a  log.  Let  strength  return  to  me  and 
I  will  help  her  yet,  and  in  spite  of  all  her  cham- 
pions." 

"  In  hate  or  in  love,  cavalier?  "  Marc'antonio's 
voice  shook  with  his  whole  body. 

"  That  shall  be  my  secret,"  answered  I.  (Yet  well 
I  knew  what  the  answer  was,  and  had  known  it  since 
the  moment  she  had  bent  over  me  in  the  sty,  filing 
at  my  chain.)  "  It  had  better  be  hate — eh,  Marc'an- 
tonio? — seeing  that  for  some  reason  she  hates  all 
men,  except  you  perhaps,  and  Stephanu,  and  her 
brother." 

"  We  do  not  count,  I  and  Stephanu.  Her  brother 
she  adores.  But  the  rest  of  men  she  hates,  cavalier, 
and  with  good  cause." 

"  Then  it  had  better  be  hate?  " 

"  Yes,  yes  " — and  there  was  appeal  in  his  voice 
— "  it  had  a  thousand  times  better  be  hate,  could 

362 


HOW    MARC'ANTONIO    NURSED    ME 

such  a  miracle  happen."  lie  peered  into  my  eyes  for 
a  moment,  and  shook  his  head.  "  But  it  is  not  hate, 
cavalier;  you  do  not  deceive  me.  And  since  it  is 
not " 

"Well?" 

"  It  were  better  for  you — far  better — that  Giuse 
had  died  of  the  wound  you  gave  him." 

"  Why,  what  on  earth  has  Giuse  to  do  with  this 
matter?"  I  demanded.  Indeed  I  had  all  but  for- 
gotten Giuse's  existence. 

"  Only  this;  that  had  Giuse  died,  they  would  have 
killed  you  out  of  hand  in  vendetta." 

"You  are  an  amiable  race,  you  Corsicans!  " 

"  And  you  came,  cavalier,  meaning  to  reign  over 
us!  .  .  .  Now  I  have  taken  a  liking  to  you  and  will 
give  you  a  warning.  Be  like  your  father,  and  give 
up  all  for  love." 

"  Suppose,"  said  I  after  a  pause,  "  that  for  love 
I  choose  rather  to  dare  all?  " 

"  Signore  " — he  stepped  back  and,  raising  himself 
erect,  flung  out  both  hands  passionately — "  take 
her,  if  you  must  take  her,  away  from  Corsica!  She 
is  innocent,  but  here  they  will  never  understand. 
AVlmt  she  did  she  did  for  her  brother,  far  from  home, 
yet  he  ...  ho  has  no  thanks,  no  bowels  of  pity, 
and  here  at  home  it  is  killing  her!  There  was  a 
young  man,  a  noble,  head  of  the  family  of  Rocca 

363 


SIR  JOHX  co:n^stantine 

Serra  by  Sartene — "  Marc'antonio  broke  off,  trem- 
bling. 

"  You  must  finish,"  said  I,  in  a  voice  cold  and  slow 
as  the  chilled  blood  about  my  heart. 

"  There  was  no  harm  in  her.  By  her  brother's 
will  they  were  betrothed.  She  hated  the  youth,  and 
he — he  was  eager — until  the  day  before  the  mar- 
riage 


(( 


What  happened,  Marc'antonio?" 

"  He  slew  himself,  cavalier.  Some  story  reached 
him,  and  he  slew  himself  with  his  own  gun.  O  cav- 
alier, if  you  can  help  us,  take  her  away  from 
Corsica!  " 

He  cast  up  both  hands  and  ran  from  me. 


364 


CHAPTER   XX 

I    LEARN    OF    LIBERTY,    AND    AM    RESTORED    TO    IT 

A!  Fredome  is  a  noble  thing: 
Fredome  mayse  man  to  haif  liking. 

— Bahbour,  The  Bruce. 

Non  enim  propter  gloriam  divitias  aut  honores  pugnamus,  sed 
propter  libertatem  solummodo,  quam  nemo  bonus  nisi  cum  vita 
amittit. — Lit.  Comit.  et  Baron.  Scotice  ad  Pap.  a.d.  1320  (quoted 
by  Boswell). 

Libertas  qua^  sera  tamen  respexit  .  .  .  respexit  tamen. 

— Virgil. 

When  com  ripeth  in  every  steade 

Mury  it  is  in  feld  and  hyde; 

Sinne  hit  Is  and  shame  to  chyde. 

Knyghtis  wolleth  on  huntyng  ride. 

The  deor  galopith  by  wodis  side. 

He  that  can  his  tyme  abyde, 

At  his  wille  him  schal  betyde. — Alisaunder. 

More  than  this  Marc'antonio  would  not  tell  me, 
though  I  laid  many  traps  for  more  during  the  long 
weeks  my  bones  were  healing.  But  although  he  de- 
nied me  his  confidence  in  this  matter,  he  told  me 
much  of  this  Corsica  I  had  so  childishly  invaded,  and 
a  great  deal  to  make  me  blush  for  my  random  ig- 

365 


sm  joh:nt  coxstaxttxe 

norance;  of  the  people,  their  untiring  feud  with 
Genoa,  their  insufferable  wrongs,  their  succession  of 
heroic  leaders.  He  did  not  speak  of  their  passion 
for  liberty,  as  a  man  will  not  of  what  is  holiest  in 
his  love.  He  had  no  need.  It  spoke  for  itself  in 
the  ring  of  his  voice,  in  the  glooms  and  lights  of 
his  eyes,  sombre  and  fierce  by  turns,  as  we  lay  on 
either  side  of  our  wood  fire;  and  I  listened,  till  the 
embers  died  down,  to  the  deeds  of  Jean  Paul  de  Leca, 
of  Giudice  della  Rocca,  of  Bel  Messer,  of  Sampiero  di 
Ornano,  of  the  great  Gaffori  and  other  chiefs,  all  fa- 
mous in  their  day,  each  in  his  turn  assassinated  by 
Genoese  gold.  I  heard  of  Venaco,  where  the  ghost 
of  Bel  Messer  yet  wanders,  with  the  ghosts  of  his 
wdfe  and  seven  children  drowned  by  the  Genoese  in 
the  little  lake  of  the  Seven  Bowls.  I  heard  of  the 
tw^enty-one  shepherds  of  Bastelica  who  marched 
down  from  their  mountains,  and  routed  eight  hun- 
dred Greeks  and  Genoese  of  the  garrison  of  Ajaccio; 
how  at  length  they  were  intercepted  and  slain  be- 
tween the  river  and  the  marshes — all  but  one  youth, 
who,  stretched  among  his  comrades  and  feigning 
death,  was  taken  and  led  to  execution  through  the 
streets  of  the  town,  carrying  six  heads,  and  each  a 
kinsman's.  I  heard  how  Gaffori,  besieged  his  own 
house;  how  the  Genoese,  having  stolen  his  infant 
son,  exposed  the  child  in  the  breach  to  stop  the  firing; 

366 


I    LEARX    OF    LII^ERTY 

and  how  Gaffori  called  to  them  "  I  was  a  Corsican 
before  I  was  a  father,"  and  the  cannonade  went  on, 
yet  the  child  miraculously  escaped  unhurt.  I  heard 
of  Sampiero's  last  fight  with  his  murderers,  in  the 
torrent  bed  under  the  castle  of  Giglio;  of  Maria 
Gentili  of  Oletta,  who  died  to  save  her  brother  from 
death.  .  .  .  And  until  now  these  had  not  even  been 
names  to  me!  I  had  adventured  to  win  this  king- 
dom as  a  man  goes  out  with  a  gun  to  shoot  par- 
tridges.    I  could  not  hide  my  shame  of  it. 

"  You  have  taught  me  much  in  these  evenings,  O 
Marc'antonio,"  said  I. 

"  And  you,  cavalier,  have  taught  me  much." 

"  In  what  way,  my  friend?  " 

Marc'antonio  looked  across  the  fire  with  a  smile, 
and  held  up  a  carved  piece  of  wood  he  had  been 
sharpening  to  a  point.  In  shape  it  resembled  an 
elephant's  tusk,  and  it  formed  part  of  an  apparatus 
to  keep  a  pig  from  straying,  two  of  these  tusks  being 
so  fastened  above  the  beast's  neck  that  they  caught 
and  hampered  him  in  the  undergrowth. 

"  Eccu!  "  said  Marc'antonio.  "  You  have  taught 
me  to  be  a  swine-keeper,  for  instance.  There  is  no 
shame  in  any  calling  but  what  a  man  brings  to  it. 
You  have  taught  me  to  endure  lesser  things  for  the 
sake  of  greater,  and  that  is  a  hard  lesson  at  my 


age." 


367 


SIR    JOHX    CONSTANXmE 

From  Marc'antonio  I  learned  not  only  that  this 
Corsica  was  a  land  with  its  own  ambitions,  which 
no  stranger  might  share — a  nation  small  but  earnest, 
in  which  my  presence  was  merely  impertinent  and 
laughable  withal — but  that  the  Prince  Camillo's 
chances  of  becoming  its  king  were  only  a  trifle  less 
derisory  than  my  own.  Marc'antonio  would  not 
admit  this  in  so  many  words;  but  he  gave  me  to 
understand  that  Pasquale  Paoli  had  by  this  time 
cleared  the  interior  of  the  Genoese,  and  was  thrust- 
ing them  little  by  little  from  their  last  grip  on  the 
extremities  of  the  island — Calvi  and  some  smaller 
strongholds  in  the  north,  Bonifacio  in  the  south,  and 
a  few  isolated  forts  along  the  littoral;  that  the  people 
looked  up  to  him  and  to  him  only;  that  the  con- 
stitution he  had  invented  was  working  and  working 
well;  that  his  writ  ran  throughout  Corsica,  and  his 
laws  were  enforced,  even  those  which  he  had  aimed 
at  vendetta  and  cross-vendetta;  and  that  the  militia 
was  faithful  to  him,  almost  to  a  man.  "  ]^or  will  I 
deny,  cavalier,"  he  added,  "  that  he  seems  to  me  an 
honest  patriot  and  a  wise  one.  They  say  he  seeks 
the  crown,  however." 

"  Well,  and  why  not?  "  I  demanded.  "  If  he  can 
unite  Corsica  and  win  her  freedom,  does  he  not  de- 
serve to  be  her  king?  " 

Marc'antonio  shook  his  head. 

368 


I    LEARN    OF    LIBERTY 

"  Would  vour  Prince  Camillo  make  a  better 
one?  "  I  urged. 

"  It  is  a  question  of  right,  cavalier.  I  love  this 
Paoli  for  trouncing  the  Genoese;  but  for  denying 
the  Prince  his  rights  I  must  hate  him,  and  especially 
for  the  grounds  of  his  denial," 

"  Tell  me  those  grounds  precisely,  Marc'antonio." 

But  he  would  not;  and  somehow  I  knew  that  they 
concerned  the  Princess.  "  Paoli  is  generous  in  that 
he  leaves  us  in  peace,"  he  answered,  evading  the 
question;  "and  I  must  hate  him  all  the  more  for 
this,  because  he  spares  us  out  of  contempt." 

"  Yet,"  said  I,  musing,  "  that  priest  must  have  a 
■card  up  his  sleeve.  Rat  that  he  looked,  I  cannot 
fancy  him  sticking  to  a  ship  until  she  foundered." 


Certainly  we  were  left  in  peace.  For  any  sign 
that  reached  to  us  there,  in  our  cup  of  the  hills,  the 
whole  island  might  have  been  desolate.  The  forest 
and  the  beasts  in  it,  tame  and  wild,  belonged — so 
Marc'antonio  informed  me — to  the  Colonne;  the 
slopes  between  us  and  the  sea  to  the  lost  great  colony 
of  Paomia.  No  one  disturbed  us.  Week  followed 
week,  yet  since  the  Prince  had  passed  with  his  men 
no  traveller  came  down  the  path  which  ran  between 
our  hut    and  Nat's  grave,    over  which   the  under- 

369 


SIR    JOHN    COXSTANTIXE 

growth  already  was  pushing  its  autumn  shoots.  In- 
deed, the  path  led  no  whither  but  to  the  sea  and 
the  forsaken  village.  Twice  a  week  Marc'antonio 
would  leave  me  for  five  or  six  hours  and  return  with 
bread,  and  at  whiles  with  a  bag  of  dried  figs  or  a 
basket  of  cheeses  and  olives  for  supplement.  I 
learned  that  he  purchased  them  in  a  paese  to  the 
southward  beyond  the  forest,  and  beyond  the  ridge 
of  the  hills;  but  he  made  a  mystery  of  this,  and 
I  had  to  be  content  with  his  word  that  in  Corsica 
folk  in  the  bush  need  never  starve.  Also,  sometimes 
I  would  hear  his  gun,  and  he  would  bring  me  home 
five  or  six  brace  of  blackbirds  strung  on  a  wand  of 
osier;  and  these  birds  grew  plumper  and  made  the 
better  eating  as  autumn  painted  the  arbutus  with 
scarlet  berries. 

To  me,  so  long  held  a  prisoner  within  the  hut,  this 
change  of  season  came  with  a  shock  upon  the  never- 
to-be-sufficiently-blessed  day  when  Marc'antonio,  hav- 
ing examined  and  felt  my  bones  and  pronounced 
them  healed,  lifted  and  bore  me,  as  you  might  carry 
a  child,  up  the  path  to  the  old  camp  on  the  ridge. 
He  was  proud  (good  man)  as  he  had  a  right  to  be. 
Surgeons  in  Corsica  there  might  be  none,  as  he  as- 
sured me,  or  none  capable  of  probing  an  ordinary 
bullet-wound.  But  in  youth  he  had  learnt  the  art 
of  bone-setting,  and  practised  it  upon  the  sheep  which 

370 


I    LEARN    OF    LIBERTY 

slipped  and  broke  themselves  in  the  gorge  of  the 
Taravo;  and  his  care  of  me  was  a  masterpiece,  to 
be  boasted  over  to  his  dying  day.  "  The  smallest 
limp,  at  the  outside!  "  he  promised  me;  he  would  not 
answer  entirely  for  the  left  leg,  that  thrice-teasing, 
thrice-accursed  fracture.  xVnother  ten  davs,  and  we 
might  be  sure;  he  could  not  allow  me  to  set  foot 
to  ground  under  ten  days.  But  while  he  carried 
me  he  whistled  a  lively  air,  and  broke  oif  to  promise 
me  good  shooting  before  a  month  was  out — shoot- 
ing of  blackbirds,  of  deer  perhaps,  perhaps  even  of 
a  mufro.  Here  the  whistling  grew  lai^go  espressivo. 
And  I  ?  I  drew  the  upland  air  into  my  lungs,  and 
the  scent  of  the  recovered  rnacchia  through  my  nos- 
trils, and  inhaled  it  as  a  man  inhales  tobacco-smoke, 
and  could  have  whooped  for  joy.  ^N'ot  by  one-fifth 
was  the  scent  so  intense  as  I  have  since  smelt  it 
in  spring,  when  all  Corsica  breaks  into  flower;  yet  in- 
tense enough  and  exhilarating  after  the  dank  odours 
of  the  valley.  But  the  colours!  On  a  sudden  the 
rnacchia  had  burst  into  fruit — carmine  berries  of  the 
sarsaparilla,  upon  which  a  few  late  flowerets  yet 
drooped,  duller  berries  of  the  lentisk,  olive-like  ber- 
ries of  the  phillyria,  velvet  purple  berries  of  the 
myrtle,  and  (putting  all  to  shade)  yellow  and  scarlet 
fruit  of  the  arbutus,  clustering  like  fairy  oranges, 
here  and  there  so  thickly  that  the  whole  thicket  was 

371 


SIR    JOHX    CONSTANTmE 

afire  and  aflame,  enough  to  have  deceived  Moses! 
God,  how  good  to  see  it  and  be  alive! 

Marc'antonio  bore  me  up  through  the  swimming 
air  and  laid  me  in  the  shadow  of  the  cave — her  cave. 
It  was  empty  as  she  had  left  it,  and  my  back  pressed 
the  very  bed  of  fern  on  which  she  had  lain,  dry 
now,  after  long  winnowing  by  the  wind  that  found 
its  way  into  every  crevice  of  this  mountain  summit. 

How  could  I  choose  but  think  of  her?  Thinking 
of  her,  how  could  I  choose  but  weary  myself  in  vain 
speculation,  by  a  hundred  guesses  attempting  to 
force  my  way  past  the  edge  of  the  mystery,  the 
sinister  shadow  which  wrapped  her  round,  and  pene- 
trate to  the  heart  of  it?  I  recalled  her  beauty,  child- 
like yet  sullen;  her  eyes,  so  forthright  at  times 
and  transparently  innocent,  yet  at  times  so  swiftly 
clouded  with  suspicion,  not  merely  shy,  but  shy  with 
terror,  like  the  eyes  of  a  wild  creature  entrapped; 
her  bearing,  by  turns  disdainful  and  defiant  with  a 
guarded  shame.  This  turf,  these  boulders,  had  made 
her  bower,  these  matted  creepers  her  curtain.  Here 
she  had  lived  secure  among  savage  men,  each  one  of 
them  ready  to  die — so  Marc'antonio  assured  me,  and 
all  that  I  had  seen  confirmed  it — rather  than  injure 
a  hair  of  her  head  or  suffer  it  to  be  injured.  She 
was  a  king's  daughter.  Yet  this  lad  of  the  Rocca 
Serras,  noble,  of  the  best  blood  of  the  island,  had 

372 


I    LEARN    OF    LIBERTY 

turned  his  own  gun  upon  himself  rather  than  wed 
with  her. 

I  thought  much  upon  this  lad  Rocca  Serra.  Why- 
had  he  died?  Was  it  for  loathing  her?  But  men 
do  not  easily  loathe  such  beauty.  Was  it  for  love 
of  her?  But  men  do  not  slay  themselves  for  fortu- 
nate love.  Had  her  loathing  been  in  some  way  the 
secret  of  his  despair?  I  recalled  my  words  to  her, 
and  how  she  had  answered  them,  turning  in  the  steep 
track  among  the  pines — "  I  am  your  hostage.  Do 
with  me  what  you  will."  " //  /  could!  Ah,  if  I 
could!  ^^  I  liked  to  think  that  the  lad  had  loved 
her  and  been  disdained;  yet  I  pitied  him  for  being 
disdained,  and  half-hated  him  for  having  dared  to 
love  her.  Yes,  for  certain  he  had  loved  her.  But, 
if  so,  her  secret  had  need  be  as  strange  almost  as 
that  of  Sara,  the  daughter  of  Raguel,  whom  seven 
husbands  married,  to  perish  on  the  marriage  eve — 
"  for  a  wiclced  spirit  loveth  her,  which  hurteth  nobody 
but  those  which  come  unto  her." 

In  dreams  I  found  myself  travelling  beyond  the 
grave  in  search  of  this  dead  lad,  to  question  him; 
and  not  seldom  would  awake  with  these  lines  run- 
ning in  my  head,  remembered  as  old  perplexing  fa- 
vourites with  my  father,  though  God  knows  how 
I  took  a  fancy  that  they  held  the  clue: 


o  i  o 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

I  long  to  talk  with  some  old  lover's  ghost 
Who  dy'd  before  the  God  of  Love  was  born. 

I  cannot  think  that  he,  who  then  loved  most, 
Sunk  so  low  as  to  love  one  which  did  scorn. 

But  since  this  god  produc'd  a  Destiny, 

And  that  Vice-Nature  Custom  lets  it  be, 
I  must  love  her  that  loves  not  me. 


O,  were  we  waken'd  by  this  tyranny 
T'ungod  this  child  again,  it  could  not  be 
I  should  love  her  who  loves  not  me. 

Rebel  and  Atheist  too,  why  murmur  I 
As  though  I  felt  the  worst  that  love  could  do? 

Love  may  make  me  leave  loving,  or  might  try 
A  deeper  plague — to  make  her  love  me  too; 

Which,  since  she  loves  before,  I'm  loth  to  see: 

Falsehood  is  worse  than  hate:  and  that  must  be 
If  she  whom  I  love  should  love  me. 

Many  wild  conjectures  I  made  and  patiently  built 
upon,  which,  if  I  were  to  w^rite  them  down  here, 
would  merely  bemuse  the  reader  or  drive  him  to 
think  me  crazy.  There  on  my  enchanted  mountain 
summit,  ringed  about  day  after  day  by  the  silent 
land,  removed  from  all  human  company  but  Marc'an- 
tonio's,  with  no  clock  but  the  sun  and  no  calendar 
but  the  creeping  change  of  season  upon  the  macchia, 
what  wonder  if  I  forgot  human  probabilities  at  times 
in  piecing  and  unpiecing  solutions  of  a  riddle  which 
itself  cried  out  against  nature? 

374 


I    LEARN    OF    LIBERTY 

Marc'antonio  was  all  the  while  as  matter-of-fact 
as  a  good  nurse  ought  to  be.  He  had  fashioned  me 
a  capital  pair  of  crutches  out  of  boxwood,  and  no 
sooner  could  I  creep  about  on  them  than  he  began  to 
discourse,  over  the  campfire,  on  the  hunting  excur- 
sions we  were  soon  to  make  together. 

"  Piano,  piano;  we  will  grow  strong,  and  get  our 
hand  in  by  little  and  little.  At  first  there  will  be 
the  blackbirds  and  the  foxes " 

"  You  shoot  foxes  in  Corsica?  "  I  asked. 

Marc'antonio  stared  at  me.  "  And  w^hy  not,  cav- 
alier? You  would  not  have  us  run  after  them  and 
despatch  them  with  the  stiletto!  " 

I  endeavoured  to  explain  to  him  the  craft  and  mys- 
tery of  fox-hunting  as  practised  in  England.  He 
shook  his  head  over  it,  greatly  bewildered. 

"  It  seems  a  long  ceremony  for  one  little  fox," 
was  his  criticism. 

"  But  if  we  did  it  with  less  ritual  the  foxes 
would  disappear  out  of  the  country,"  I  answered 
him. 

"And  why  not?" 

This  naturally  led  me  into  a  discourse  on  pre- 
serving game  and  on  our  English  game  laws,  which, 
I  regret  to  say,  gravelled  him  utterly. 

"  A  peace  of  God  for  foxes  and  partridges!  "Why, 
what  do  you  allow,  then,  for  a  man?" 

375 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

I  explained  that  we  did  not  shoot  men  in  England. 
His  jaw  dropped. 

"  Mbe!  In  the  name  of  the  Virgin,  whatever  do 
you  do  with  them  ?  " 

"  We  hang  them  sometimes,  and  sometimes  we 
fight  duels  with  them."  I  expounded  in  brief  the 
distinction  between  these  processes  and  their  for- 
malities, whereat  he  remained  for  a  long  while  in 
a  brown  study. 

"  Well,"  he  admitted,  "  by  all  accounts  you  Eng- 
lish have  achieved  liberty;  but,  per  Bacco,  you  do 
strange  things  with  it!  " 

".  .  .  Blackbirds,  to  begin  with,"  he  went  on, 
"  and  foxes,  and  a  hare,  maybe.  Then  in  the  next 
valley  there  are  boars — small,  and  wild,  and  fierce, 
but  our  great  half-tame  ones  have  driven  them  off 
this  mountain.  After  them  we  will  extend  ourselves 
and  stalk  for  deer." 

He  described  the  deer  to  me,  and  its  habits.  It 
was,  as  I  made  out,  an  animal  not  unlike  our  red 
deer,  but  smaller,  and  of  a  duller  coat;  shy,  too,  and 
scarce.  He  gave  me  reasons  for  this.  In  summer 
the  Corsican  shepherds,  each  armed  with  a  gun, 
pasture  their  sheep  on  the  mountains,  in  winter  along 
the  plains  and  valleys;  in  either  season  driving  off 
the  poor  stag,  which  in  summer  is  left  to  range  the 
parched  lowlands  and  in  winter  the  upper  snows.     Of 

376 


I    LEAKxV    OF    LIBERTY 

late  years,  however,  owing  to  the  unsettled  state  of 
polities,  the  shepherds  pastured  not  half  the  num- 
bers of  sheep  that  Marc'antonio  remembered  in  his 
youth,  and  by  consequence  the  deer  had  multiplied 
and  grown  bolder.  He  could  promise  me  a  stag. 
Nay,  he  even  hoped  that  owing  to  these  same  causes 
the  mufri  were  pushing  down  by  degrees  to  the  sea- 
board from  the  inland  mountains,  which  they  mostly 
haunted.  Ah,  that  was  sport  for  kings!  If  fortune, 
one  of  these  fine  days,  would  send  us  a  full-grown 
mufrone  now! 

But  we  began  upon  the  blackbirds.  I  remember 
yet  my  first,  and  how,  while  I  stood  trembling  a 
little  with  that  excitement  which  only  a  sick  man 
can  know  who  takes  up  his  gun  again,  Marc'antonio 
held  up  the  bird  and  ripped  open  its  crop,  filled  to 
bursting  with  myrtle-berries;  and  the  exquisite  vio- 
let scent  they  exhaled. 

Already  I  had  flung  my  crutches  away,  and  three 
weeks  later  we  were  after  the  deer  in  good  earnest.  I 
had  lost  all  account  of  time;  but  winter  was  upon 
us,  with  a  wealth  of  laurestinus  flower  upon  the 
macchia  and  a  sense  of  stillness  in  the  air  such  as 
we  feel  at  home  on  windless,  sunny  mornings  in 
December  after  a  nic;ht  of  frost.  We  had  started 
before  dawn,  and  crossed  the  valley  by  the  track 
leading  past  our  deserted  hut  and  up  between  the 

377 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

granite  pinnacles  on  which,  as  the  siuiset  touched 
them,  I  had  so  often  gazed.  We  had  followed  it 
up  beyond  the  pines  and  over  a  pass  leading  out 
among  a  range  of  undulating  foot-hills,  which 
seemed  to  waver  and  lose  heart  a  dozen  times  before 
making  up  their  minds  to  unite  and  climb,  and  be  a 
snow-capped  mountain.  But  they  mounted  to  the 
snows  at  length,  and  the  snows  had  driven  down  the 
stag  which,  under  Marc'antonio's  guidance,  I  stalked 
for  two  hours,  and  shot  before  noon-day.  We  left 
him  in  the  track,  to  be  recovered  as  we  returned, 
and  very  cautiously  made  our  way  to  the  crest  of 
the  next  ridge.  I  chose  a  granite  boulder  for  my 
mark,  gained  it,  crawled  under  its  lee,  and,  peering 
over,  had  whipped  my  gun  to  my  shoulder  and  very 
nearly  pulled  the  trigger — was,  in  fact,  looking  along 
the  sight — when  I  found  that  I  was  aiming  at  a 
man;  and  not  only  that,  but  at  Billy  Priske! 

I  believe  on  my  faith  that  thenceforward  he  owed 
his  life  to  the  shape  of  his  legs — so  unlike  a  deer's. 

He  was  picking  his  way  across  the  dry  bed  of  a 
torrent  in  the  dip  not  fifty  yards  below  us,  leaping 
from  slab  to  slab  of  outcropping  granite  as  a  man 
crosses  a  brook  by  stepping-stones;  and  upon  a  slab 
midway  he  halted,  drew  off  his  hat,  extracted  a  hand- 
kerchief, and  stood  polishing  his  bald  head  while  he 
took  stock  of  the  climb  before  him. 

378 


I    LEARN    OF    LIBERTY 

"Billy!     Billy  Priske!" 

He  tilted  his  head  still  higher,  towards  the  ridge 
and  the  rock  on  which  I  stood  against  his  sky-line, 
frantically  waving. 

"Hog-roar!" 

".  .  .  And  to  think,  lad,"  he  panted,  ten  minutes 
later,  as  he  stretched  himself  on  the  heath  beside  me 
— "  to  think  of  your  mistaking  me  for  a  deer!  " 

"Did  I  say  so,  Billy?  Then  I  lied.  It  was  for 
a  mufro  I  took  you.  Marc'antonio  here  had  as  good 
as  promised  me  one." 

His  beaming  smile  changed  on  the  instant  to  a 
look  of  extreme  gravity.  "  See  you,  lad,"  he  said, 
"  have  you  ever  come  across  one  of  these  here  wild 
sheep?  " 

"  Not  yet." 

"  I  thought  not.  Well,  I  have ;  and  I  advise  you 
not  to  talk  irreligious  about  'em." 

"  I  will  talk  about  nothing,"  said  I,  "  until  you 
tell  me  how  my  father  is,  and  of  all  your  adventures." 

"  He's  well,  lad — hearty,  and  well,  and  thriving. 
And  he  sends  you  his  love,  and  a  paper  for  your 
friend  here.  'Tis  from  the  Princess;  and  the  upshot 
is,  you're  released  from  your  word  and  free  to  come 
back  with  me." 

Marc'antonio,  proud  of  an  opportunity  to  display 
his  scholarship,  broke  the  seal  and  read  the  letter 

379 


Sm    JOim    COXSTANTINE 

with  a  magisterial  frown,  which  changed,  however, 
to  a  pleasant,  friendly  smile  as  he  handed  it  across 
to  me. 

"  Yonr  captivity  is  at  an  end,  cavalier.  You  said 
well,  after  all,  that  your  patience  would  win  the 
day." 

"  If 2/  patience,  Marc'antonio?  What,  then,  of 
yours? " 

The  tears  sprang  suddenly  to  his  eyes,  good  fellow 
that  he  was,  and  now  my  good  friend.  I  stretched 
out  a  hand,  and  he  grasped  and  held  it  for  a  moment 
between  his  twain.     We  used  no  more  words. 

"  So  my  father  is  with  the  Princess?  "  I  asked, 
turning  on  Billy,  who  stared — and  excusably — at 
this  evidence  of  our  emotion. 

"  No,  he  isn't,"  said  Billy;  "  leastways,  he  was 
with  her  when  I  left  him,  at  a  place  called  Olmeta, 
or  something  of  the  sort.  But  by  this  time  he's 
gone  north  again." 

"  And  why  goes  he  north?  " 

"  Because  that's  where  the  Genoese  have  shut  up 
the  lady." 

"  Meaning  the  Queen  Emilia?  " 

Billy  nodded. 

"  And  you  have  travelled  the  length  of  Corsica 
alone  to  tell  me  this  and  take  me  back  with  you?  " 

"  No,  I  didn't.     Leastways — "     Billy  opened  his 

380 


I    LPLVRX    OF    LIBERTY 

bag  of  provender,  selected  a  crust,  and  began  to 
munch  it  very  deliberately.  "  There's  a  saying,"  he 
went  on  between  mouthfuls,  "  about  somebody  or 
other  axin'  more  questions  in  one  breath  than  a  wise 
man  can  answer  in  a  week;  and,  likewise,  there's  an- 
other saying  that  even  a  bagpipe  won't  speak  till  his 
belly  be  full.  Well,  now,  as  for  coming  alone,  in 
the  first  place  and  in  round  numbers  I  didn't;  and 
as  for  coming  to  tell  you  this,  partly  it  was  and  partly 
it  wasn't;  and  as  for  your  going  back  with  me,  that's 
for  you  to  choose." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  I,  humouring  him,  "  we  will 
take  you  point  by  point,  in  order.  To  begin  with,  you 
did  not  come  alone — ergo,  you  had  company.  What 
company?  " 

"  Very  poor  company,  lad,  and  by  name  Stephanu. 
That  hatchet-faced  Prince  Camillo  chose  him  out  for 
a  guide  to  me — "  Billy  paused,  with  his  mouth  open 
for  a  bite.  "Why,  whatever  is  the  matter?"  he 
asked;  for  I  had  turned  to  translate  this  to  Marc'an- 
tonio,  and  Marc'antonio  had  started  up  with  a  growl 
and  an  oath. 

"Did  Stephanu  come  willingly?"  I  asked. 

"  As  I  was  saying,  the  Prince  chose  him  for  guide 
to  me,  and  he  couldn't  have  chosen  a  worse  one.  If 
you'll  believe  me,  there  wasn't  an  ounce  of  comfort 
in  the  man  from  the  start;  and  this  morning,  having 

381 


SIR   JOHN    CO]\"STANTINE 

put  me  in  the  road  so  that  I  couldn't  miss  it,  he 
turned  back  and  left  me — in  a  desperate  hurry, 
too." 

I  glanced  at  Marc'antonio,  who  had  risen  and  was 
striding  to  and  fro  upon  the  ridge  with  his  fists 
clenched.  There  was  mischief  here  for  a  certainty, 
and  Stephanu's  behaviour  confirmed  it.  For  a  mo- 
ment, however,  I  forbore  to  translate  further,  and 
resumed  my  catechising  of  Billy. 

"  In  the  second  place  you  came  with  my  release, 
and  to  bring  me  news,  and — with  what  purpose  be- 
side?" 

"  Why,  with  a  message  for  the  ship,  to  be  sure." 

"The  ship?"    I  stared  at  him.    "What  ship?" 

"  Why,  the  Gauntlet  ketch !  You  don't  tell  me," 
said  Billy,  with  a  glance  westward,  where,  however, 
the  hills  intervened  and  hid  the  coast  from  us — "  you 
don't  tell  me  you  haven't  sighted  her!  But  she's 
here,  lad — she  must  be  here!  Your  father  sent 
home  word  by  her  that  she  was  to  be  back  wi'  rein- 
forcements by  the  first  day  of  November;  and  did 
you  ever  in  your  life  know  your  uncle  disappoint 
him?" 

"  Marc'antonio,"  said  I,  "  what  is  this  I  hear  from 
Billy  about  a  ship?  " 

Marc'antonio  gave  a  start,  and  looked  from  me  to 
Billy  in  evident  confusion. 

382 


I    LEARN    OF    LIBERTY 

"  Truly,  cavalier,  there  was  a  ship.  ...  I  spied 
her  there  three  days  ago,  at  sunset,  making  for  the 
island." 

"  Was  she  the  same  ship  that  first  brought  us  to 
the  island?" 

"  She  was  very  like,"  he  answered  unwillingly. 
*'  Yes,  indeed,  cavalier,  I  have  no  doubt  she  was  the 
same  ship." 

"  And  you  never  told  me !  I^ay,  I  see  now  why 
for  these  three  days  we  have  been  hunting  to  the 
east  of  our  camp,  and  always  where  the  coast  was 
hidden — yes,  yes,  I  see  now  a  score  of  tricks  you 
have  played  me  while  I  trusted  to  your  better  knowl- 
edge .  .  .  Marc'antonio,"  I  said  sternly,  "  did  you 
indeed  believe  so  ill  of  me  as  that  at  sight  of  the 
ship  I  should  forget  my  paroWi  " 

"  It  was  not  that,  cavalier;  believe  me,  it  was  not 
that.    I  feared " 

"  Speak  on,  man." 

"  I  feared  you  might  forget  our  talks  together, 
and,  when  your  release  came,  forget  also  that  other 
adventure  on  which  I  had  hoped  to  bind  you.  The 
Princess " 

"  Then  your  fear,  my  friend,  did  me  only  a  little 
less  injustice.  You  have  heard  how  my  father  per- 
severes for  a  woman's  sake;  and  I  am  my  father's 

son,  I  hope.    As  for  the  Princess " 

383 


SIR    JOHX    CONSTANTIXE 

"  She  is  in  worse  case  than  ever,  cavalier,  since 
thej  have  contrived  to  get  rid  of  Stephanu." 

"  On  the  contrary,  my  friend,  her  case  is  hopeful 
at  length;  since  this  release  sets  lis  free  to  help  her." 

We  trudged  back  to  the  camp,  pausing  on  the  way 
while  Marc'antonio  skewered  the  deer's  legs  and 
slung  him  on  a  pole  between  us.  As  we  started 
afresh  Billy  observed  for  the  first  time  that  I  walked 
with  a  limp. 

"A  broken  leg,"  said  I  carelessly;  for  it  would 
not  have  done  to  tell  him  all  the  truth. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  he,  content  with  the  explana- 
tion, "  accidents  will  happen  to  them  that  travel,  and 
a  broken  leg,  they  say,  is  stronger  when  well  set." 

"  If  that's  so,"  said  I,  "  I've  a  double  excuse  to 
be  thankful,"  which  he  did  not  understand,  as  I  did 
not  mean  him  to. 

Darkness  fell  on  us  a  little  before  we  reached  the 
camp.  From  the  first  I  had  recognised  there  could 
be  no  chance  to-day  of  visiting  the  shore  and  seek- 
ing the  Gauntlet  at  her  anchorage.  We  were  weary, 
too,  and  hungry,  and  nothing  remained  to  do  but 
light  the  campfire,  cook  our  supper,  and  listen  to 
Billy's  tale  of  his  adventures,  a  good  part  of  which 
will  be  found   in  the   following  chapter.     I  ought 

384 


I    LEARN    OF    LIBERTY 

to  say,  rather,  that  Billy  and  I  conversed,  while 
Marc'antonio — for  we  spoke  in  English — sat  by  the 
fire  busy  with  his  own  thoughts;  and,  by  his  face, 
they  were  gloomy  ones. 

"  "What  puzzles  me,  Billy,"  said  I,  as  we  parted 
for  the  night,  "  is  who  can  be  aboard  of  the  ketch. 
Reinforcements?  Why,  what  reinforcements  could 
my  uncle  send?  " 

"  The  devil  a  one  of  me  knows,  as  the  Irishman 
said,"  answered  Billy  cheerfully.  "  But  sent  'em  he 
has,  and,  if  I  know  anything  of  Mr.  Gervase,  they're 
good  ones." 

I  was  up  before  dawn,  and  the  sun  rose  over  the 
shoulder  of  our  mountain  to  find  me  a  mile  and 
more  on  my  way  down  the  track  which  led  to  the 
sea.  I  passed  the  clearing  and  the  copse  where  Xat 
had  taken  his  wound,  and  the  rock,  high  on  my  right, 
where  I  had  stood  and  spied  him  running,  the  mac- 
c/iia-filled  hollows  and  dingles,  the  wood,  the  village, 
still  desolate,  the  graveyard  where  we  had  first 
encamped;  and  so  came  to  the  meadow  below  it, 
where  Mr.  Fett  had  gathered  his  nmshrooms.  It 
was  greener  than  I  remembered  it,  owing  to  the  au- 
tuum.  rains.  .  .  . 

I  pulled  up  with  a  start.  At  the  foot  of  the 
meadow,  where  the  stream  ran  in  a  curve  between  it 

385 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

and  the  woods,  stood  a  man.  He  held  a  fishing-rod 
in  his  hand,  and  was  stepping  back  to  make  a  cast; 
but,  at  a  cry  from  me,  paused  and  turned  slowly 
about. 

"Uncle  Gervase!" 

"My  dear  Prosper!"  He  dropped  his  rod  and 
advanced,  holding  out  his  hands  to  me.  "  Why,  lad, 
lad,  you  have  grown  to  a  man  in  these  months!  " 

"  And  it  really  is  you,  uncle !  "  I  cried  again,  as 
yet  scarcely  believing  it,  though  I  clasped  him  by 
both  hands.     "  And  what  are  you  doing  here?  " 

"  Why,"  said  he  quizzically,  "  'tis  a  monstrous 
confession  for  this  time  of  the  year,  but  I  was  fishing 
for  trout;  and,  what  is  more,  I  have  taken  two,  with 
Walton's  number  two  June-fly,  lad — Mr.  Grylls's 
variety — the  wings,  if  you  remember,  made  of  the 
black  drake's  feathers,  with  a  touch  of  grey  horse- 
hair on  the  shank.  I  wished  to  know,  first,  if  a 
Corsican  trout  would  answer  to  a  Cornish  fly,  and, 
next,  if  they  keep  the  same  seasons  as  in  England. 
They  do.  Prosper — there  or  thereabouts.  To  tell 
you  the  truth — though,  as  they  say,  an  angler  may 
catch  a  fish,  but  it  takes  a  fisherman  to  tell  the  truth 
about  him — I  found  them  woundily  out  of  condition, 
and  restored  them,  as  Mr.  Grylls  would  put  it,  to 
their  native  element." 

"  You  don't  tell  me  that  the  Vicar  is  here,  too?  " 

386 


I    LEARX    OF    LIBERTY 

I  asked,  prepared  at  this  time  to  be  surprised  at 
nothing. 

"  He  is  not,  lad,  though  I  pleaded  with  him  very 
earnestly  to  come,  being,  as  you  may  guess,  put  to 
my  wits'  end  by  your  father's  message." 

"  But  how,  then,  have  you  managed?  " 

"  Pretty  well,  Prosper — pretty  well.  But  come 
and  see  for  yourself.  The  Gauntlet  lies  at  her  old 
anchorage — or  so  Captain  Pomery  tells  me — and  'tis 
but  a  step  down  the  creek  to  where  my  boat  is 
waiting." 

We  walked  down  beside  the  stream,  my  uncle,  as 
we  went,  asking  a  score  of  questions  about  our  ad- 
ventures and  about  my  father  and  his  plans;  ques- 
tions w^hich  I  was  in  no  state  of  mind  to  answer 
coherently.  But  this  mattered  the  less  since  he  had 
no  leisure  to  listen  to  my  answers. 

I  felt,  as  I  said  just  now,  ready  to  be  surprised 
at  nothing.  But  in  this  I  was  mistaken,  as  I  found 
when  we  rounded  the  corner  by  the  creek's  head,  and 
my  eyes  fell  on  a  boat  waiting,  a  stone's  throw  from 
the  landing-place,  and  on  the  crew  that  manned  her. 

"  Good  Lord !  "  I  cried,  and  stood  at  a  halt. 

They  were  seven — six  rowers  and  a  coxswain — 
and  all  robed  in  russet  gowns  that  reached  to  their 
ankles.     The  Trappist  monks! 


387 


CHAPTER   XXI 

OF  MY  father's  ANABASIS;  AND  THE  DIFFERENT  TEM- 
PERS OF  AN  ENGLISH  GENTLEMAN  AND  A  WILD 
SHEEP    OF   CORSICA 

Bright  thoughts,  clear  deeds,  constancy,  fidelity,  bounty,  and 
generous  honesty  are  the  gems  of  noble  minds;  wherein  (to 
derogate  from  none)  the  true  heroick  English  Gentleman  hath  no 
peer. — Sir  Thomas  Browne. 

La  domesticite  n'a  eu  aucune  influence  sur  le  d^veloppement 
intellectuel  des  mouflons  que  nous  avons  possedes.  .  .  .  Les 
hommes  ne  les  effrayaient  plus;  il  semblait  meme  que  ces  animaux 
eussent  acquis  plus  de  confiance  dans  leur  force  en  apprenant  ^ 
nous  connaitre.  Sans  doute  on  ne  pent  point  conclure  de  quel- 
ques  individus  k  I'espece  entiere;  mais  on  peut  assurer  sans  rien 
hasarder,  que  le  mouflon  tient  une  des  demi^res  places  parmis  les 
mammif^res  quant  a  I'intelligence. — Saint-Hilaire  et  Cuvier, 
Histoire  Naturelle  des  Mammiferes. 

"  You  will  find  them  very  good  fighters,"  said  my 
uncle.  "  The  most  of  them,  as  I  understand  from 
Dom  Basilio,  were  soldiers  at  one  time  or  another 
before  they  embraced  their  present  calling." 

"  But  the  devil  of  it  is,"  said  I,  "  how  you  con- 
trived to  enlist  'em?" 

My  uncle  stood  still  and  rubbed  the  back  of  his 

388 


OF    MY    FxVTHER'S    ANABASIS 

head.  "  I  don't  know,  Prosper,  that  I  used  any  ar- 
guments. I  just  put  the  case  to  them;  through  Dom 
Basilio,  vou  understand." 

"  In  other  words,  you  made  them  an  eloquent 
speech." 

"  I  did  nothing  of  the  sort,"  he  corrected  me 
hastily.  "  In  the  first  place  because  I  have  never 
made  a  speech  and  couldn't  manage  one  if  I  tried; 
and  next,  because  it  is  against  their  rules.  I  just 
put  the  case  to  Dom  Basilio.  All  the  credit  belongs 
to  him." 

Dom  Basilio — for  the  coxswain  of  the  boat  proved 
to  be  he  and  no  other — gave  me  a  different  account 
as  we  pulled  towards  the  Gauntlet.  Yet  it  agreed 
with  my  uncle's  in  the  main. 

"  In  faith,"  said  he,  "  if  there  be  any  credit  in 
what  we  have  done  or  are  about  to  do,  set  it  down 
to  your  uncle.  Against  goodness  so  simple  no  man 
can  strive,  though  he  bind  himself  by  vows.  Grati- 
tude may  have  helped  a  little;  but  you  can  say,  and 
you  will  not  be  far  out,  that  for  very  shame  we  are 
here." 

Captain  Pomery,  who  hailed  me  over  the  ship's 
side,  proudly  invited  me  to  row  around  and  inspect 
the  repairs  in  her — particularly  her  new  stem-post — 
before  climbing  on  board.  For  my  part,  while  con- 
gratulating him  u23on  them  and  upon  his  despatch, 

389 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTmE 

I  admired  more  the  faces  of  Mike  Halliday  and 
Roger  Wearne,  grinning  welcome  to  me  over  the  bul- 
warks. They,  too,  called  my  attention  to  the  repairs; 
to  the  new  rudder,  fitted  with  chains  in  case  of 
accident  to  the  helm,  to  the  grain  of  the  new  mizzen- 
mast  (a  beautiful  spar,  and  ^vithout  a  knot),  to  the 
teak  hatch-coverings  which  had  replaced  those  shat- 
tered by  the  explosion.  They  desired  me  to  marvel 
at  everything;  but  that  they  themselves  after  past 
perils  should  be  here  again  and  ready,  for  no  more 
than  seamen's  pay,  to  run  their  heads  into  perils  yet 
unhandselled,  was  to  these  honest  fellows  no  matter 
worth  considering. 

"  But  whither  be  we  bound.  Master  Prosper? " 
demanded  Captain  eJo.  "  For  'tis  ill  biding  for  or- 
ders after  cracking  on  to  be  punctual;  and  tho'  I  say 
naught  against  the  anchorage  as  an  anchorage,  the 
wind,  what  with  these  hills  and  gullies,  is  like  Mul- 
ligan's blanket,  always  coming  and  going;  and  by 
fits  an'  starts  as  the  ague  took  the  goose;  and  likewise 
backwards  and  forwards,  like  Boscastle  fair:  so  that 
our  cables  be  twisted  worse  than  a  pig's  tail." 

"  As  for  that,"  said  I,  "  your  next  rendezvous,  I 
hear,  is  the  island  of  Giraglia;  but,  for  the  whole 
plan  of  campaign,  you  must  come  and  hear  it  from 
Billy  Priske,  who  will  tell  you  what  my  father  has 
done  and  what  he  intends." 

390 


OF    MY    FATHER'S    ANABASIS 

Accordingly,  after  breakfasting  aboard,  we  were 
landed  again  and  went  up  the  mountain  together — 
my  uncle  Gervase,  Captain  Pomery,  Dom  Basilio, 
and  I:  and  on  the  slope  below  the  Princess's  cave 
we  sat  and  listened  to  Billy's  story,  the  Trappist 
translating  it  to  Marc'antonio,  who  sat  with  his  gun 
across  his  knees  and  his  eyes  fastened  on  my  uncle's 
gentle,  venerable  face. 

Billy  Priske's  Story  of  My  Father's  Campaign 

"  As  Master  Prosper  has  told  you,  gentlemen  all, 
we  left  him  sitting  alongside  poor  Mr.  Fiennes,  and 
took  the  path  that  leads  down  and  across  the  valley 
yonder  and  out  again  on  the  north  side.  There  were 
four  of  us — my  master,  myself,  and  the  creatures 
Fett  and  Badcock — each  man  with  his  gun  and  good 
supply  of  ammunition.  Besides  this  Sir  John  carried 
his  camp-stool  and  spy-glass,  and  in  his  pocket  a 
map  along  with  his  Bible  and  tobacco-pouch;  I  the 
wine  and  his  spare  gun;  Fett  the  bag  of  provisions; 
and  Badcock  his  flute  and  a  gridiron." 

"  Why  a  gridiron?  "  asked  my  uncle. 

"  The  reason  he  gave,  sir,  was  that  it's  just  these 
little  things  that  get  left  behind,  on  a  picnic;  which 
Sir  John,  when  I  reported  it,  pronounced  to  be  a 
very  good  reason.     '  And,  as  it  happens,'  said  he, 

391 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 


t  ? 


tis  the  very  reason  why  Mr.  Badcock  hmiself  goes 
with  us :  for  my  son,  when  he  becomes  king,  will  need 
a  Fool,  and  I  have  brought  a  couple  in  case  of  acci- 
dents.' 

"  We  started  then,  as  Master  Prosper  will  remem- 
ber, a  little  before  dark;  and,  having  lanterns  to  light 
the  track,  and  now  and  then  the  north  star  between 
the  tree-tops  to  give  us  our  bearings,  we  crossed  the 
valley  and  came  out  through  a  kind  of  pass  upon 
a  second  slope,  a  little  nor'-west  of  the  spot  where 
I  happened  yesterday  on  Master  Prosper.  By  this. 
Sir  John's  watch  marked  ten  o'clock,  and,  finding  us 
dead-beat  by  the  roughness  of  the  track,  he  com- 
manded us  to  lie  down  and  sleep. 

"  The  next  morning,  after  studying  his  map,  he 
started  afresh,  still  holding  northward  in  the  main 
but  bearing  back  a  little  to  the  left — that  is,  towards 
the  sea,  which  before  noon  we  brought  in  sight  at  a 
place  he  called  La  Plana,  where  (he  said)  was  a  fish- 
ing village:  and  so  no  doubt  there  was,  for  we  spied 
a  two-three  boats  moored  a  little  way  out  from  the 
shore — looking  down  upon  them  through  a  cleft  in 
the  rocks.  The  village  itself  we  did  not  see,  but 
skirted  it  upon  high  ground  and  came  down  to  the 
foreshore  a  short  two  miles  beyond  it;  where  we 
found  a  beach  and  a  spit  of  rock,  and  on  the  spit 
a  tumble-down  tower  standing,  as  lonely  as  a  combed 

392 


OF    MY    FATHER'S    ANABASIS 

louse.  Above  the  beach  ran  a  tolerable  coast-road, 
which  divided  itself  into  two,  after  crossing  a  bridge 
behind  the  tower;  tlie  one  following  the  shore,  the 
other  striking  inland  up  the  devil  of  a  gorge.  This 
inland  road  we  took,  for  two  reasons:  the  first,  that 
by  the  map  it  appeared  to  cut  off  a  corner  of  our 
journey;  the  second,  because  the  map  showed  a  vil- 
lage, not  three  miles  up  the  gorge,  where  we  might 
get  advice, 

"  After  an  hour's  climbing  then  (for  the  road 
twisted  uphill  along  the  edge  of  the  torrent)  we  came 
to  the  village,  which  was  called  Otta.  Now  the  first 
thing  to  happen  to  us  in  Otta  was  that  we  found 
it  empty — not  so  much  as  a  dog  in  the  street — but 
all  the  inhabitants  on  the  hill  above,  in  a  crowd  be- 
fore a  mighty  great  stone:  and  Badcock  would  have 
it  that  they  were  gathered  together  in  fear  of  us. 
But  the  true  reason  turned  out  to  be  something  quite 
difi^erent.  For  this  stone  overhangs  the  village, 
which  is  built  on  a  stiff  slope;  and  though  it  has 
hung  there  for  hundreds  of  years  without  moving, 
the  villagers  can  never  be  easy  that  it  will  not  tumble 
on  top  of  them;  and  once  a  year  regularly,  and  at 
odd  times  when  the  panic  takes  them,  they  march 
up  and  tie  it  with  ropes.  This  xcry  thing  they  were 
doing  as  we  arrived,  and  all  because  some  old  woman 
had  dreamed  of  an  earthquake.    We  took  notice  that 


SIR    JOHI^    CONSTANTINE 

in  the  crowd  and  in  the  gang  binding  the  stone  there 
was  no  man  the  right  side  of  fifty  (barring  a  cripple 
or  two);  the  reason  being,  as  it  turned  out,  that  all 
their  young  men  had  enlisted  in  the  militia. 

"  These  people  made  us  welcome  (and  I  will  say, 
gentlemen,  once  for  all  and  in  spite  of  what  has 
happened  to  Master  Prosper  here,  that  there  is  no 
such  folk  as  the  Corsicans  for  kindness  to  strangers), 
but  they  told  us  we  were  on  the  wrong  road.  By 
following  the  pass  we  should  find  ourselves  in  forest- 
tracks  wdiich  indeed  would  lead  us  down  to  the  great 
plain  of  the  Niolo  and  across  it  to  Corte,  whence  a 
good  road  ran  north  to  Cape  Corso;  but  our  shorter 
way  was  the  coast-road,  which  (they  added)  we  must 
leave  before  reaching  Calvi — for  fear  of  the  Genoese 
— and  take  a  southerly  one  which  wound  through  the 
mountains  to  Calenzana.  They  explained  this  many 
times  to  Sir  John,  and  Sir  John  explained  it  to  us; 
and,  learning  that  we  were  English,  and  therefore 
friends  of  liberty,  they  forced  us  to  drink  wine  with 
them — lashins  of  wine — until  just  as  my  head  was 
beginning  to  feel  muzzy,  some  one  called  out  that 
we  were  heroes  and  must  drink  the  wine  of  heroes, 
the  pride  of  Otta,  the  Invincible  St.  Cyprien. 

"  By  this  time  we  were  all  as  sociable  together  as 
mice  in  malt,  except  that  these  Corsicans  never 
laughed  at  all,  but  stared  at  us  aw'esome-like  even 

394 


OF    MY    FATHER'S    ANABASIS 

when  the  creature  Fctt  put  one  foot  on  a  chair  and 
another  on  the  table  and  made  'em  a  long  tomfool 
speech  in  English,  calling  'cm  friends,  Romans,  and 
countrymen  and  asking  them  to  lend  him  their  ears, 
as  though  his  own  weren't  long  enough.  Then  they 
brought  in  the  Invincible  St.  Cyprien,  and  Sir  John 
poured  out  a  glass,  and  sniffed  and  tasted  it  and 
threw  up  his  head,  gazing  round  on  the  company  and 
looking  every  man  full  in  the  eyes.  I  can't  tell  you 
why,  gentlemen,  but  his  bearing  seemed  so  noble  to 
me  at  that  moment  I  felt  I  could  follow  him  to  the 
death  (though  of  course  there  wasn't  the  leastest 
need  for  it,  just  then).  I  reached  out  for  the  bottle, 
filled  myself  a  glass,  drank  it  off,  and  stared  around 
just  as  defiant.  It  gave  me  a  very  pleasant  feeling 
in  the  pit  of  the  stomach,  and  the  taste  of  it  didn't 
seem  calculated  to  hurt  a  fly.  So  I  took  two  more 
glasses  quickly,  one  after  the  other;  and  every  one 
looked  at  me  with  their  faces  very  bright  all  of  a 
sudden — and  the  room  itself  grown  brighter — and 
to  my  astonishment  I  heard  them  calling  upon  me  in 
English  for  a  speech.  Whereby,  being  no  public 
speaker,  I  excused  myself  and  walked  out  into  the 
village  street,  which  was  bright  as  day  with  the  moon 
well  over  the  cliffs  on  the  other  side  of  the  gorge, 
and  (to  my  surprise)  crowded  with  people  so  that  T 
couldn't  have  believed  the  whole  City  of  London 

395 


SIR  JOHX  co:n^staxtine 

held  half  the  number,  let  alone  a  God-forsaken  hole 
like  Otta.  I  stood  for  a  while  on  the  doorstep  count- 
ing 'em,  and  the  next  thing  I  remember  was  crossing 
the  street  to  a  low  wall  overhanging  the  gorge  and 
leaning  upon  it  and  watching  the  cliffs  working  up 
and  down  like  mine-stamps.  This  struck  me  as 
curious,  and,  after  thinking  it  over,  I  made  up  my 
mind  to  climb  across  and  discover  the  reason." 

"  I  fear,  Billy,"  said  my  uncle,  "  that  you  must 
have  been  intoxicated." 

"  — But  the  worst,  sir,  was  the  moon ;  which  was 
not  like  any  ordinary  moon,  but  kept  swelling  and 
bursting  in  showers  of  the  most  beautiful  fireworks, 
so  that  I  said  to  myself  '  O  for  the  wings  of  a  dove,' 
I  said,  '  so  that  I  fetch  some  one  to  put  a  stop  to 
this!  '  And  I'd  hardly  said  the  words  before  it  was 
broad  day,  and  me  lying  in  the  street  with  a  small 
crowd  about  me,  very  solemn  and  curious,  and  my 
head  in  the  lap  of  a  middle-aged  woman  that  smelt 
of  garlic,  but  without  any  pretensions  to  looks.  And 
she  was  lifting  up  her  head  and  singing  a  song,  and 
the  sound  of  it  as  melancholy  as  a  gib-cat  in  a  gar- 
den of  cucumbers.  Whereby  the  whole  crowd  stood 
by  and  stared,  without  offering  to  help.  Whereby 
I  said  to  myself  '  This  is  a  pretty  business,  and  no 
mistake.'  Whereby  I  saw  Sir  John  come  forth  from 
the  house  where  the  drinking  had  been,  and  his  face 

396 


OF    MY    FATHER'S    ANABASIS 

was  white  but  his  step  steady:  and  says  he,  'What 
have  you  been  doing  to  this  woman? '  '  Nothing  at 
all,'  said  I;  'or,  leastways,  nothing  to  warrant  this 
behaviour  on  her  part.'  '  Well,'  said  he,  '  you  may 
be  surprised  to  hear  it,  but  she  maintains  that  you 
are  betrothed  to  her.'  '  A  man,'  said  I,  '  may  woo 
where  he  will,  but  must  wed  where  his  wife  is.  If 
this  woman  be  my  fate,  I'll  say  no  more  except  that 
'tis  hard:  but  as  for  courting  her,  I  never  did  so.' 
'  You  are  in  a  worse  case  than  you  guess,'  said  he ; 
'for,  to  begin  with,  the  lady  is  a  widow;  and,  sec- 
ondly, she  is  marrying  you,  not  for  your  looks,  but 
for  revenge.'  'Why,  what  have  I  done?'  said  I. 
'  Nothing  at  all,'  said  he;  '  but  from  what  I  can  hear 
of  it,  five  years  ago  a  man  of  Evisa,  up  the  valley, 
stole  a  goat  belonging  to  this  woman's  husband; 
whereupon  the  husband  took  a  gun  and  went  to 
Evisa  and  shot  the  thief's  cousin,  mistaking  him  for 
the  thief;  whereupon  the  thief  came  down  to  Otta 
and  shot  the  honest  man  one  day  while  he  was  gath- 
ering olives  in  his  orchard.  He  himself  left  neither 
chick  nor  child;  but  his  kinsmen  of  the  family  of 
Paolantonuccio  took  up  the  quarrel,  and  with  so 
much  liveliness  that  to-day  but  three  of  them  sur- 
vive, and  these  are  serving  with  the  militia  just  now. 
For  the  while,  therefore,  the  AVidow  Paolantonuccio 
has  no  one  to  carry  on  the  custom  of  the  country; 

397 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTIXE 

nor  will  have  until  a  husband  offers.'  '  For  pity's 
sake,  Sir  John/  said  I,  '  get  me  out  of  this !  Tell 
them  that  if  any  man  has  been  courting  this  woman 
'tis  not  I,  William  Priske,  but  another  in  my  image.' 
'  AYhv,  to  be  sure !  '  cried  Sir  John.  '  It  must  have 
been  the  Invincible  St.  Cyprien!  ' 

"  So  stepping  back  and  seating  himself  again  upon 
the  doorstep,  he  began  to  argue  with  the  villagers, 
the  woman  standing  sullen  all  the  while  and  hold- 
ing me  by  the  arm.  I  could  not  understand  a  word, 
of  course,  but  later  on  he  told  me  the  heads  of  his 
discourse. 

"  '  I  began,'  he  said,  '  by  expounding  to  them  all 
the  doctrine  of  cross-revenge,  or  vendetta  trasversa 
as  they  call  it;  and  this  I  did  for  two  reasons — the 
first  because  in  an  argument  nothing  succeeds  like 
telling  a  man  something  he  knows  already — the  sec- 
ond because  it  proved  to  them,  and  to  me,  that  I 
wasn't  drunk.    For  the  doctrine  is  a  complicated  one. 

" '  Next  I  taught  them  that  the  doctrine  was 
damnable,  and  had  been  pronounced  to  be  damnable 
by  their  beloved  leader  Pascal  Paoli;  and  that  it 
robbed  Corsica  of  men  who  should  be  fighting  the 
Genoese,  on  which  errand  we  were  bound. 

"  '  And  lastly  I  proved  to  them  on  the  authority  of 
several  wise  philosophers  (some  of  Greece,  and  others 
of  my  own  invention,  that  a  man  with  three  glasses 

398 


OF    MY    FATHER'S    ANABASIS 

of  their  wiiic  in  his  belly  was  ii  man  possessed,  and 
therefore  that  either  nothing  had  happened,  or,  if 
anything  had  happened,  the  fellow  to  blame  must 
be  that  devil  of  a  warrior  the  Invincible  St.  Cyprien. 

"  '  Yet  (as  so  often  happens)  the  argument  that 
really  persuaded  them,  as  I  believe,  was  one  I  never 
used  at  all:  which  was,  that  the  woman  had  money 
and  a  parcel  of  land,  and  albeit  no  man  could  pick 
up  courage  to  marry  her,  they  did  not  relish  a 
stranger  stepping  in  and  cutting  them  out.' 

"  Be  that  as  it  may,  gentlemen,  in  twenty  min- 
utes the  crowd  had  come  round  to  Sir  John's  way 
of  thinking:  and  they  not  only  sold  us  mules  at  thirty 
livres  apiece — \vhich  Sir  John  knew  to  be  the  fair 
current  price — but  helped  us  to  truss  up  Mr.  Fett 
and  Mr.  Badcock,  each  on  his  beast,  and  walked  with 
us  back  to  the  cross-roads,  singing  hymns  about  Cor- 
sican  libertv.  Onlv  we  left  the  woman  sadlv  cast 
down. 

"  From  the  cross-roads,  where  they  left  us  and 
turned  back,  our  road  led  through  a  great  forest 
of  pines.  Among  these  pines  hung  thousands  of 
what  seemed  to  be  balls  of  white  cotton,  but  were 
the  nests  of  a  curious  caterpillar;  which  I  only  men- 
tion because  Mr.  Fett,  recovering  himself,  picked  up 
one  of  these  caterpillars  and  slipped  it  down  the  nape 
of  Mr.  Badcock's  neck,  whereby  the  poor  man  was 

399 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

made  uncomfortable  all  that  day  and  the  next:  for 
the  hairs  of  the  insect  turned  out  to  be  full  of  poison. 
In  the  end  we  were  forced  to  strip  him  and  use  the 
gridiron  upon  him  for  a  currycomb;  so  it  came  in 
handy  after  all. 

"  On  the  second  day,  having  crossed  a  river  and 
come  to  a  village  which,  if  I  remember,  was  called 
Manso,  we  bore  away  southward  among  the  most 
horrible  mountains.  Among  these  we  wandered 
four  days,  relying  always  on  Sir  John's  map:  but  I 
reckon  the  man  who  made  it  must  have  drawn  the 
track  out  of  his  own  head  and  trusted  that  no  person 
would  ever  be  fool  enough  to  go  there.  Hows'ever, 
the  weather  keeping  mild,  we  won  through  the  passes 
with  no  more  damage  than  the  loss  of  Mr.  Fett's 
mule  (which  tumbled  over  a  precipice  on  the  third 
day),  and  a  sore  on  Mr.  Fett's  heel  brought  about  by 
his  having  to  walk  the  rest  of  the  way  into  Calenzana. 

"  Now  at  Calenzana,  a  neat  town,  we  found  our- 
selves nearly  in  sight  of  Calvi  and  plumb  in  sight  of 
the  Genoese  outposts  that  were  planted  a  bare  gun- 
shot from  the  house  where  we  lodged,  on  the  road 
leading  northward  to  Calvi  gate.  To  the  south,  as 
we  heard — though  we  never  saw  them — lay  a  regi- 
ment of  Paoli's  militia;  and  between  the  two  forces 
Calenzana  stood  as  a  sort  of  no-man's-land,  albeit  the 
Genoese  claimed  what  they  called  a  '  supervision  ' 

400 


OF    MY    FATHER'S    ANABASIS 

over  it.  In  fact  they  never  entered  it,  mistrusting  its 
defences,  and  also  the  temper  of  its  inhabitants,  who 
were  likely  enough  to  rise  at  their  backs  if  the  pa- 
triots gave  an  assault. 

"  They  contented  themselves,  then,  with  advanc- 
ing their  outposts  to  a  bend  on  the  Calvi  road  not 
fifty  yards  from  our  lodging,  which  happened  to  be 
the  last  house  in  the  suburbs;  and  from  his  window, 
during  the  two  days  we  waited  for  Mr.  Fett's  sore 
to  heal.  Sir  John  would  watch  the  guard  being  re- 
lieved, and  sometimes  pick  up  his  gun  and  take  long 
aim  at  the  sentry,  but  lay  it  down  with  a  sort  of 
sigh:  for  though  the  sight  of  a  Genoese  was  poison 
to  him,  he  reckoned  outpost-shooting  as  next  door 
to  shooting  a  fox. 

"  Our  hosts,  I  should  tell  you,  were  an  old  soldier 
and  his  wife.  The  man,  by  his  own  account,  fol- 
lowed the  trade  of  a  bird-stuffer;  which  was  just  an. 
excuse  for  laziness,  for  no  soul  ever  entered  his  shop 
but  to  hear  him  talk  of  his  campaigning  under  Gaf- 
fori  and  under  the  great  Pascal  Paoli's  father, 
Hyacinth  Paoli.  This  he  would  do  at  great  length, 
and,  for  the  rest,  lived  on  his  wife,  who  was  a  well- 
educated  woman  and  kept  a  school  for  small  chil- 
dren when  they  chose  to  come,  which  again  was  not 
often. 

"  This  Antonio,  as  we  called  him,  kept  in  his  shop 

401 


SIR    JOim    CONSTANTIXE 

and  in  a  pen  behind  it  a  young  ram,  which  was  his 
pet  and  the  pride  of  Calenzana:  for,  to  begin  with, 
it  was  a  wild  ram;  and  in  addition  to  this  it  was 
tame;  and,  to  cap  all,  it  wasn't  a  bit  like  a  ram. 
And  yet  it  was  a  wild  ram — a  wild  Corsican  ram. 

"  Being  an  active  sort  of  man  in  his  way,  though 
well  over  fifty,  and  given  to  wandering  on  the  moun- 
tains above  Calenzana,  he  had  come  one  day  upon  a 
wild  sheep  with  a  lamb  running  at  her  heels.  He 
let  fly  a  shot  (for  your  Corsican,  Master  Prosper, 
always  carries  a  gun)  and  ran  forward.  The  mother 
made  off,  but  the  lamb,  scared  out  of  its  wits,  sat 
and  squatted  like  a  hare;  and  so  Antonio  took  him 
up  and  carried  him  home. 

"  By  the  time  we  came  to  Calenzana  the  brute  had 
grown  to  full  size,  with  horns  almost  two  feet  long. 
As  we  should  reckon,  they  were  twisted  the  wrong 
way  for  a  ram's,  and  for  fleece  he  had  a  coat  like  a 
Gossmoor  pony's,  brown  and  hairy.  But  a  ram  he 
was;  and,  the  first  night,  when  Mr.  Badcock  obliged 
us  with  a  solo  on  the  flute,  he  came  forward  and 
stared  at  him  for  a  time  and  then  butted  him  in  the 
stomach. 

"  We  had  to  carry  the  poor  man  to  bed.  We  slept, 
all  four  of  us,  in  a  loft,  which  could  only  be  reached 
by  a  ladder;  and  a  ram,  as  you  know,  can't  climb  a 
ladder.     It's  out  of  nature.     Yet  the  brute  tried  its 

402 


OF    MY    FATHER'S    ANABASIS 

best,  having  taken  such  a  fancy  to  Badcock,  and 
wouldn't  be  denied  till  his  master  beat  him  out  of 
doors  with  a  fire-shovel  and  penned  him  up  for  the 
night. 

"  The  next  morning,  being  loosed,  he  came  in  to 
breakfast  with  the  family — as  his  custom  was — and 
butted  a  crock  of  milk  all  over  the  kitchen  hearth, 
but  otherwise  bore  himself  like  a  repentant  sinner; 
the  only  difference  being  that  from  breakfast  onward 
he  turned  away  from  his  master  and  took  to  fol- 
lowing Mr.  Fett,  who  didn't  like  the  attention  at  all. 
Badcock  kept  to  his  bed;  and  Mr.  Fett  too,  who  could 
only  manage  to  limp  a  little,  climbed  up  to  the  loft 
soon  after  midday  and  lay  down  for  a  rest. 

"  Sir  John  and  I,  left  alone  downstairs,  took  what 
we  called  a  siesta,  each  in  his  chair  and  Sir  John's 
chair  by  the  shaded  window.  For  my  part,  I  was 
glad  enough  of  forty  winks,  and  could  have  enlisted 
among  the  Seven  Sleepers  after  those  cruel  four  days 
in  the  mountains.  So,  with  Sir  John's  permission, 
I  dozed  off;  and  sat  up,  by  and  by — awake  all  of  a 
sudden  at  the  sound  of  my  master's  stirring — to  see 
him  at  the  window  with  his  gun  half-lifted  to  his 
shoulder,  and  away  up  the  road  a  squad  of  Genoese 
soldiers  marching  down  to  relieve  guard. 

"  Witli  that  there  came  a  yell  from  the  loft  over- 
head.    I  sprang  up,  rubbing  my  eyes,  and,  between 

403 


SIR   eTOim    CONSTANTINE 

rubbing  'em,  saw  Sir  John  lower  his  gun  and  stand 
back  apace.  The  next  instant — thud,  thud! — over 
the  eaves  upon  the  roadway  dropped  Fett  and  Bad- 
cock,  and  picked  themselves  up  as  if  to  burst  in 
through  the  window.  No  good!  A  second  later  that 
ram  was  on  top  of  them. 

"  How  he  had  contrived  to  climb  up  the  ladder 
and  butt  the  pair  over  the  roof,  there's  no  telling. 
But  there  he  was;  and,  gathering  up  his  legs  from  the 
fall  as  quick  as  lightning,  he  headed  them  off  from 
the  house  and  up  the  road.  There  was  no  violence. 
So  far  as  one  could  tell  from  the  clouds  of  dust,  he 
never  hurt  'em  once,  but  through  the  dust  we  could 
see  the  Genoese  staring  as  he  nursed  the  pair  up  the 
road  straight  into  their  arms.  The  queer  part  of 
it,"  wound  up  Billy  reflectively,  "  was  that,  after  the 
first  moment.  Sir  John  had  never  the  chance  of  a 
shot.  You  may  doubt  me,  gentlemen,  but  Sir  John 
is  a  shot  in  a  thousand,  and,  what  with  the  dust 
and  the  confusion,  there  was  never  a  chance  without 
risk  to  human  life.  The  Genoese  giving  back,  in  less 
than  half  a  minute  the  road  was  clear." 

"  But  what  happened?  "  asked  my  uncle. 

"  Well,  sir,  this  here  Corsica  being  an  island,  it 
follows  that  they  must  have  stopped  somewhere. 
But  where,  there's  no  telling," 

"  You  never  saw  them  again." 

404 


OF    MY    FATHER'S    ANABASIS 

"Never,"  said  Billy  solemnly;  and,  having  asked 
and  received  permission  to  light  his  pipe,  resumed 
the  tale. 

" — There  being  now  no  reason  to  loiter  in  Calen- 
zana,  we  left  the  town  next  morning  and  rode  along 
the  hill  tracks  to  Muro,  when  again  we  struck  a  high- 
road running  northward  to  the  coast.  Sir  John  had 
sold  Mr.  Badcock's  mule  to  our  good  hosts  in  Ca- 
lenzana,  and  here  in  Muro  he  parted  with  our  pair 
also,  deeming  it  safer  to  travel  the  next  stage  on 
foot;  since  by  all  accounts  we  were  about  to  skirt 
the  Genoese  cantonments  scattered  to  the  east  of 
Calvi;  and  although  the  Corsicans  held  and  patrolled 
the  road,  over  which  a  train  of  waggons  travelled 
daily  with  material  for  the  new  town  a-building  on 
the  sea-shore,  at  Isola  Rossa,  yet  there  was  risk  that 
a  couple  of  riders  faring  along  it  without  an  escort 
might  be  snapped  up  by  the  enemy.  Also  Sir  John 
had  no  mind  to  be  stopped  a  dozen  times  and  ques- 
tioned by  the  Corsican  patrols.  We  kept  therefore 
along  the  hills  to  the  east  of  the  road;  and  on  our 
way,  having  halted  and  slept  a  night  in  an  olive 
orchard  about  five  miles  from  the  coast,  we  woke 
up  a  little  after  daylight  to  the  sound  of  heavy  guns 
firing. 

"  The  meaning  of  this  was  made  plain  to  us  as 
we  fetched  our  way  round  to  the  eastward  and  came 

405 


SIR   JOIIX    CONSTANTINE 

out  at  length  upon  the  face  of  a  steep  hill  that  broke 
away  in  steep  cliffs  to  the  very  foreshore.  There, 
below  us,  lay  a  neat  deep-water  roadstead  covered 
to  westward  by  a  small  island  with  a  tower  on  it 
and  a  battery.  The  shore  ran  out  towards  the  island 
and  the  two  had  been  joined  by  a  mole,  or  the  mak- 
ings of  one,  about  thirty  yards  long;  and  well  back 
in  the  bight  of  the  shore,  where  it  curved  towards 
us,  was  a  half-built  town,  all  of  new  stone,  with 
scaffoldings  standing  everywhere,  yet  not  a  soul  at 
work  on  'em.  Out  in  the  roadstead  five  small  gun- 
boats were  tacking  and  blazing  away,  two  at  the 
mole  and  three  at  the  town  itself;  and  the  town  and 
the  island  blazing  and  banging  back  at  the  gun- 
boats. We  could  not  see  the  town  battery,  but  the 
island  one  mounted  three  guns,  and  Sir  John's  spy- 
glass showed  the  people  there  running  from  one  to 
another  like  emmets. 

"  Sir  John  studied  the  boats  and  the  town  through 
his  glass  for  five  minutes,  and  after  them  the  in- 
shore water  and  the  beach  on  our  side  of  the  town, 
that  was  of  white  sand  with  black  rocks  here  and 
there  and  ran  down  pretty  steep  as  it  neared  the 
foot  of  our  hill.  '  If  those  fellows  had  any  sense — ' 
he  began  to  say,  and  with  that,  as  if  struck  by  a 
sudden  thought,  he  looked  close  around  him,  and 
then  at  the  edge  of  the  cliff  where  it  broke  away 

406 


OF    MY    FATHER'S    ANABASIS 

below  us;  and  the  next  moment  he  was  down  on  his 
stomach  and  crawling  to  the  brink  for  a  look  below. 
I  did  the  same,  of  course;  and  overtook  him  just 
as  he  drew  back  his  head,  and  gave  a  sort  of  whistle, 
looking  me  in  the  face — as  well  he  might;  for  right 
beneath  us  lay  a  sixth  gunboat  and  the  crew  of  her 
ashore  already  with  a  six-pounder  and  hoisting  it 
by  a  tackle  to  a  slab  of  rock  about  fifty  feet  above 
the  water's  edge.  A  neater  spot  they  couldn't  have 
chosen,  for  it  stood  at  an  angle  the  town  battery 
couldn't  answer  to  (which  was  plain,  from  its  send- 
ing no  shot  in  this  direction)  and  yet  it  raked  the 
whole  town  front  as  easy  as  ninepins. 

"  To  make  things  a  bit  fairer,  these  Genoese  gen- 
try offered  us  as  simple  pretty  a  target  as  any  man 
could  wish  for;  nothing  to  do  but  fire  down  on  'em 
at  forty  yards,  bob  back  and  reload,  with  ne'er  a 
chance  of  their  climbing  up  to  do  us  a  mischief  or 
even  to  count  how  many  we  were.  I  touched  Sir 
John's  elbow  and  tapped  my  gun-stock,  and  for  the 
moment  he  seemed  to  think  well  of  it.  '  Cut  the 
tackle  first,*  said  he,  lifting  his  gun.  '  'Twill  be  as 
good  as  hamstringing  'em':  and  for  him  the  shot 
would  have  been  child's  play.  But  after  a  second 
or  two  he  lowered  his  piece  and  drew  back.  '  Dam- 
me,' said  he,  '  I'm  losing  my  wits.  Let  'em  do  their 
work  first,  and  we'll  get  gun  and  all.    If  only  ' — and 

407 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

here  he  looked  nervous-like  over  his  shoulder  up  the 
hill — '  those  fellows  from  the  town  don't  hurry- 
hither  and  spoil  sport!  ' 

"  I  couldn't  see  his  face,  but  I  could  feel  that  he 
was  chuckling  as  the  fellows  below  us  swung  up  the 
gun  and  fixed  it  in  position  and  handed  up  the  round 
shot.  But  when  they  followed  up  with  two  kegs 
of  powder  and  dumped  'em  on  to  the  platform,  my 
dear  master's  hand  went  up  and  he  rubbed  the  back 
of  his  head  in  pure  delight.  After  that — as  I 
thought,  for  nothing  but  frolic — he  even  let  'em 
load  and  train  the  gun  for  us,  and  only  lifted  his 
musket  when  the  gunner — a  dark-faced  fellow  with 
a  red  cap  on  his  head — was  act'lly  walking  up  wnth 
the  match  alight  in  his  linstock. 

"  '  I  don't  want  to  hurt  that  man  afore  'tis  neces- 
sary,' says  Sir  John;  and  with  that  he  takes  aim 
and  lets  fly,  and  shears  the  linstock  clean  in  two, 
right  in  the  fellow's  hand.  I  saw  the  end  of  it — 
match  and  all — fly  half-way  across  the  platform, 
and  popped  back  my  head  as  the  dozen  Genoese 
there  turned  their  faces  up  at  us.  The  pity  was,  we 
hadn't  time  for  a  look  at  'em! 

"  Sir  John  had  warned  me  to  hold  my  fire!  But 
neither  he  nor  I  was  prepared  for  what  happened 
next.  For  first  one  of  them  let  out  a  yell,  and  right 
on  top  of  it  half  a  dozen  were  screaming  '  Imboscaia! 

■108 


OF    MY    FATHER'S    ANABASIS 

imboscata! ' — and  with  that  we  heard  a  rush  of  feet 
and,  looking  over,  saw  the  last  two  or  three  scram- 
bling for  dear  life  oif  the  edge  of  the  platform  and 
down  the  rocks  to  their  boat. 

"  ^  Quick,  Billy — quick!  Damme,  but  we'll  risk 
it!  '  cried  Sir  John,  snatching  up  his  spare  gun. 
'  If  we  make  a  mess  of  it,'  says  he,  '  plug  a  bullet 
into  one  of  the  powder  kegs!    Understand? '  says  he. 

"  *  Sakes  alive,  master!'  says  I.  'You  bain't 
a-going  to  clamber  down  that  gizzy-dizzy  place  sure 
'nuff!  ' 

"  '  "Why,  o'  course  I  be,'  says  he,  and  already  he 
had  his  legs  over  and  was  lowering  himself.  *  Turn 
on  your  back,  stick  out  your  heels,  and  hold  your  gun 
wide  of  you,  so,^  says  he;  'and  you'll  come  to  no 
harm.' 

"  Well,  as  it  happened,  I  didn't.  Not  for  a  hun- 
dred pound  would  I  go  down  that  cliff  again  in  cold 
blood,  and  my  stomach  turns  wambly  in  bed  o' 
nights  when  I  dream,  of  it.  But  down  it  I  went  on 
the  flat  of  my  back  with  my  heels  out,  as  Sir  John 
recommended,  and  with  my  eyes  shut,  about  which 
he'd  said  nothing.  I  felt  my  jacket  go  rip  from  tail 
to  collar — you  can  see  the  rent  in  it  for  yourselves 
— and  my  shirt  likewise,  and  what  happened  to  the 
seat  of  my  breeches  'twould  be  a  scandal  to  men- 
tion.    But  in  two  shakes   or  less  we  were  at  the 

409 


SIE    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

bottom  of  the  cliff  together  safe  and  sound,  and  not 
a  moment  too  soon,  neither:  for  as  I  picked  myself 
up  I  saw  Sir  John  stagger  across  and  catch  up  the 
burning  fuse  that  lay  close  alongside  one  of  the 
powder  kegs.  Whereby,  although  the  danger  was 
no  sooner  seen  than  over,  I  pretty  near  turned  sick 
on  the  spot. 

"  But  Sir  John  gave  me  no  time.  '  Hooray! '  he 
sings  out.  '  Help  me  to  slew  this  blessed  gun  round, 
and  we'll  sink  boat  and  all  for  'em  unless  she  slips 
her  moorings  quick !  " 

"  Well,  sir,  that  was  the  masterpiece.  We  heaved 
and  strained,  and  inside  of  two  minutes  we  had  it 
trained  upon  the  gunboat.  The  men  that  had  quitted 
the  platform  were  down  by  the  shore  before  this; 
and  a  dozen  had  pushed  their  boat  off  and  sat  in  her, 
some  pulling,  others  backing,  and  all  jabbering  and 
disputing  whether  to  return  and  take  off  the  five  or 
six  that  stood  in  a  huddle  by  the  water's  edge  and 
were  crying  out  not  to  be  left  behind.  And  mean- 
time on  the  gunboat  some  were  shouting  to  'em  not 
to  be  a  pack  of  cowards — for  the  crew  on  board 
could  see  us  on  the  platform  (which  the  others 
couldn't)  and  that  we  were  only  two — and  others 
were  running  to  cut  her  cable,  seeing  the  gun  trained 
on  'em  and  not  staying  to  think  that  the  wind  was 
light  and  the  current  setting  straight  onshore.     And 

410 


OF   MY    FATHER'S    ANABASIS 

in  tlic  midst  of  this  Sir  John  finds  a  fresh  fuse,  and 
lights  it  from  the  old  one,  and  bang!  says  we. 

"  It  took  her  plump  in  the  stern-works,  knocking 
her  wheel  and  taffrail  to  flinders  and  ripping  out  a 
fair  six  feet  of  her  larboard  bulwarks.  This  much 
I  saw  while  the  smoke  cleared;  but  Sir  John  was 
already  calling  for  the  reload.  The  Genoese  by  good 
luck  had  left  a  rammer;  and  the  pair  of  us  had 
charged  her  and  were  pushing  home  sliot  number 
two  as  merry  as  crickets,  when  we  heard  a  horn 
blown  on  the  hill  above  us,  and  at  the  same  instant 
spied  a  body  of  Corsicans  on  the  beach  below,  march- 
ing towards  us  from  the  town. 

"  Well,  Sir  John  decided  that  we  might  just  as 
well  have  a  second  shot  at  the  boat  while  our  hand 
was  in;  and  so  we  did,  but  trained  it  too  high  in  our 
excitement  and  did  no  damage  beyond  knocking  a 
hole  in  her  mainsail.  And  our  ears  hadn't  lost  the 
noise  of  it  before  a  man  put  his  head  over  the  cliff 
above  and  spoke  to  us  very  politely  in  Corsican. 

"  He  seemed  to  be  asking  the  way  down ;  for  Sir 
John  pointed  to  the  way  we  had  come.  Whereby 
he  laughed  and  shook  his  head.  And  a  dozen  others 
that  had  gathered  beside  him  looked  down  too  and 
laughed  and  waved  their  hands  to  us.  By  and  by 
they  went  off,  still  waving,  to  look  for  a  better  way 
down:  but  they  took  a  good  twenty  minutes  to  reach 

411 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

us,  and  before  this  the  gunboat  had  drifted  close 
upon  the  rocks  and  no  hope  for  it  but  to  surrender 
to  the  party  marching  along  the  beach  and  now  close 
at  hand. 

"  Well,  sirs,  the  upshot  was  that  this  party,  which 
had  marched  out  for  a  forlorn  hope,  took  the  gun- 
boat and  her  crew  as  easily  as  a  man  gathers  mush- 
rooms. And  the  rest  of  the  boats,  dispirited  belike, 
sheered  off  after  another  hour's  banging  and  left  the 
roadstead  in  peace.  But  while  this  was  happening 
the  party  on  the  cliffs  had  worked  their  way  down 
to  our  rock  by  a  sheep-track  on  the  western  side, 
and  the  first  man  to  salute  us  was  the  man  who  had 
first  spoken  us  from  the  top  of  the  cliff:  and  this, 
let  me  tell  you,  was  no  less  a  person  than  the  Gen- 
eral himself." 

"  The  General?  "  exclaimed  my  uncle. 

"The  General  Paoli,  sir:  a  fresh-complexioned 
man  and  fairer-skinned  than  any  Corsican  we  had 
met  on  our  travels;  tall,  too,  and  upstanding;  dressed 
in  green  and  gold  with  black  spatterdashes  and  look- 
ing at  one  with  an  eye  like  a  hawk's.  Compliments 
fly  when  gentlefolk  meet.  Though  as  yet  I  didn't 
know  him  from  Adam,  'twas  easy  to  mark  him  for 
a  person  of  quality  by  the  way  he  lifted  his  hat  and 
bowed.  Sir  John  bowed  back,  though  more  stiffly; 
and  the  more  compliments  the  General  paid  him, 

412 


OF    MY    FATHER'S    ANABASIS 

the  stiifer  he  grew  and  the  shorter  his  answers,  till 
by  and  by  he  said  in  English  '  I  think  you  know  a 
little  of  my  language,  sir:  enough,  at  any  rate,  to 
take  my  meaning? ' 

"  The  General  bowed  again  at  this,  still  keeping 
his  smile.  '  You  do  not  wish  my  men  to  overhear? 
Yes,  yes,  I  speak  the  English — a  very  little — and 
can  understand  it,  if  you  will  be  so  good  as  to  speak 
slowly.' 

"  '  Very  well  then,  sir,'  said  Sir  John ;  '  ii  1  and 
my  man  here  have  been  of  some  small  service  to 
you  to-day  I  count  myself  happy  to  have  obliged  so 
noble  a  patriot  as  Signor  Pascal  Paoli.'  And  here 
they  both  bowed  again.  '  But  I  must  warn  you,  sir, 
that  my  service  here  is  due  only  to  the  Queen  Emilia, 
whom  you  also  should  serve,  and  whom  I  am  sworn 
to  seek  and  save.  The  Genoese  have  shut  her,  I 
believe,  in  Nonza,  in  Cape  Corso.' 

"  The  General  frowned  a  bit  at  this,  but  in  a  mo- 
ment smiled  at  him  in  an  open  way  that  was  honest 
too,  as  anv  one  could  see.  '  I  have  later  news  of 
the  Queen  Emilia,'  said  he ;  '  which  is  that  the 
Genoese  have  removed  her  to  the  island  of  Giraglia 
off  Cape  Corso.  I  fear,  sir,  you  will  not  lightly 
reach  her.' 

"  '  I  will  reach  her  or  die,'  said  Sir  John  stoutly. 

"  The  General  glanced  at  the  Genoese  gunboats. 

413 


SIR   JOHN    COXSTANTINE 

'  At  present  it  is  hopeless/  said  he ;  '  but  I  tell  you 
frankly  that  in  two  months  I  hope  to  clear  the  sea 
of  those  gentry  yonder.  Meantime,  if  you  are  deter- 
mined to  press  on  to  Cape  Corso,  I'll  beg  you  to 
accept  a  pass  from  me  which  will  save  trouble  if 
you  fall  in,  as  you  will,  with  my  militia.  You  who 
have  done  me  so  generous  a  service  to-day  will  not 
refuse  so  cheap  a  token  of  gratitude.' 

"  Those  were  the  General's  words,  sirs,  as  I  heard 
them  and  got  them  by  heart.  And  Sir  John  took 
the  pass  from  him  scribbled  there  and  then  on  the 
fly-leaf  of  the  General's  pocket  Bible — and  put  it 
carefully  between  the  leaves  of  his  own:  and  so, 
having  led  us  back  along  the  track  by  which  he  and 
his  men  had  come,  the  General  pointed  out  our  way 
to  us  and  bade  us  farewell  in  the  Lord's  name.  He 
saw  that  my  master  wanted  no  thanks,  and  a  gentle- 
man (as  they  say)  would  rather  be  unmannerly  than 
troublesome. 

"  That,  sirs,  is  all  my  story,  except  that  by  the 
help  of  the  General's  pass  we  made  our  way  up  the 
long  length  of  Cape  Corso:  and  at  first  Sir  John, 
learning  there  were  yet  some  Genoese  left  in  a 
valley  they  call  Luri,  pitched  his  camp  at  the  head 
of  it,  and  day  by  day  took  out  his  camp-stool  and 
stalked  the  mountains  till  little  by  little  he  cleared 
the  valley,  driving  the  enemy  down  to  the  marina  in 

414 


OF    MY    FATHER'S    ANABASIS 

terror  of  his  sharp-shooting.  After  that  we  lodged 
for  a  while  in  a  tower  on  the  top  of  a  crag,  where 
(the  country  people  said)  a  famous  old  Roman  had 
once  lived  out  his  exile.  Last  of  all  we  moved  to 
the  shore  opposite  the  island  of  Giraglia;  hut  the 
Genoese  had  hurnt  the  village  which  formerly  stood 
there.  Among  the  ruins  we  camped,  and  day  after 
day  my  master  conned  the  island  across  the  strait, 
waiting  for  the  time  when  the  Gauntlet  should  be 
due.  A  tower  stands  in  the  island,  which  is  but  a 
cliff  of  bare  rock,  and  there  must  be  deep  water  close 
inshore,  for  once  a  Genoese  vessel  drew  alongside 
and  landed  stores:  but,  for  the  rest,  day  after  day, 
my  master  could  see  through  his  glass  no  sign  of 
life  but  a  sentry  or  two  on  the  platform  above  the 
landing-quay. 

"  At  last  there  came  a  day  when,  from  a  goatherd 
who  brought  us  meat  and  wine  from  the  next  paese, 
we  learned  that  a  body  of  armed  men,  Corsicans, 
had  pushed  up  to  Olmeta,  near  by  ISTonza,  to  press 
the  Genoese  garrison  there.  Sir  John,  sick  of  wait- 
ing idle,  proposed  that  we  should  travel  back  and 
help  them,  if  only  to  fill  up  the  time.  It  would  be 
on  our  way,  at  any  rate,  to  send  word  to  the  ketch, 
which  was  near  about  due.  So  we  travelled  back  to 
Olmeta;  and  behold!  we  tumbled  upon  the  Princess 
and  her  men  who  had  first  taken  us  prisoners;  and 

415 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTIXE 

the  Princess's  brother  with  her — and  be  dashed  if  I 
like  his  looks!  So  Sir  John  told  his  tale,  and  the 
Princess  sent  me  along  with  Master  Prosper's  letter 
of  release.  And  here's  a  funny  thing  now !  "  wound 
up  Billy,  glancing  at  me.  "  The  Prince  w^as  willing 
enough  your  release  should  be  sent,  and  even  chose 
out  that  fellow  Stephanu  to  come  along  with  me. 
But  something  in  his  eye — I  can't  azackly  describe  it 
— warned  me  he  had  a  sort  of  reason  for  thinking 
that  'twouldn't  do  you  much  good.  There  was  a 
priest,  too:  I  took  a  notion  that  he  didn't  much  ex- 
pect to  see  you  again,  sir.  And  this  kept  me  in  a 
sweat  every  mile  of  the  journey,  so  that  when  you 
pointed  your  gun  at  me  yesterday,  as  natural  as  life, 
you  might  have  knocked  me  down  with  a  feather." 

"  Then  it  is  settled,"  decided  my  uncle  as  Billy 
came  to  a  full  stop.  "  Sir  John  has  gone  north 
again,  you  say,  and  will  be  expecting  us  off  the 
island?  There's  naught  to  prevent  our  starting  this 
evening?  " 

"  Nothing  at  all,"  agreed  Captain  Pomery,  to 
whom  by  a  glance  he  had  appealed.  "  Leastways 
and  supposing  I  can  get  my  hawsers  out  of  curl- 
papers." 

"  That  suits  you.  Prosper?  "  asked  my  uncle. 

I  looked  across  the  fire  at  Marc'antonio,  who  sat 
with  his  eyes  lowered  upon  the  gun  across  his  knees. 

416 


OF    MY    FATHER'S    ANABASIS 

"  Marc'antonio,"  said  I,  "  my  friends  here  are 
proposing  to  sail  northward  to  Cape  Corso  to-night. 
They  require  me  to  sail  with  them.  Am  I  free,  think 
you?  " 

"  Beyond  doubt,  you  are  free,  cavalier,"  answered 
Marc'antonio,  still  without  lifting  his  eyes. 

"  Now  for  my  part,"  I  said,  "  I  am  not  so  sure. 
Suppose — look  at  me,  please,  my  friend — suppose 
that  you  and  I  were  to  go  first  to  the  Princess  to- 
gether and  ask  her  leave?" 

My  uncle  gazed  up  at  Marc'antonio,  who  had 
sprung  to  his  feet;  and — after  a  long  look  at  his 
face — from  Marc'antonio  to  me. 

"  Prosper,"  he  said  quietly,  "  we  shall  sail  to- 
night. If  we  sail  without  you,  will  your  father  for- 
give us?    That  is  all  I  ask." 

"  Dear  uncle,"  said  I,  "  for  the  life  of  me  I  can- 
not tell  you;  but  that  in  my  place  he  would  do  the 
like,  I  am  sure." 


417 


CHAPTER    XXII 

THE    GREAT    ADVENTURE 

He  that  luvith  a  starre 

To  follow  her,  sinke  or  swym, 
Hath  never  a  feare  how  farre, 

For  the  world  it  longith  to  hym: 
For  the  road  it  longith  to  hym 

And  the  fieldes  that  marcche  beside — 
Lift  up  thi  herte,  my  maister  then, 

So  mery  to-morn  we  ride. — The  Squyres  Delyt. 

So  the  Gauntlet  sailed  for  the  island  of  Giraglia; 
and  we  two,  having  watched  her  for  a  while  as  she 
stood  out  to  make  her  offing,  trod  out  our  campfire 
and  turned  our  faces  northward.  Marc'antonio's 
last  action  before  starting  was  to  unhobble  the  goats 
and  free  the  hogs  from  their  wooden  collars  and 
headpieces.  As  he  finished  ojDerating  he  turned 
them  loose  one  by  one  with  a  parting  smack  on  the 
buttocks,  and  they  ran  from  us  among  the  thickets, 
where  we  heard  their  squeals  change  to  grunts  of 
delight. 

Brutes  though  they  were,  I  could  understand 
their  delight,  having  lived  with  them  and  in  even 
such   thraldom   as  theirs.      From  my  neck   also   it 

418 


THE  GREAT  ADVENTURE 

seemed  that  a  heavy  collar-weiglit  fell  loose  and 
slipped  itself  as,  having  passed  Nat's  grave  in  the 
hollow,  we  left  the  pine-forest  at  our  feet  and  wound 
our  way  uj)  among  the  granite  pinnacles,  upward, 
still  upward  into  the  clear  air.  Aloft  there,  beyond 
the  pass,  the  kingdom  of  Corsica  broke  on  our  view, 
laid  out  in  wide  prospect;  the  distant  glittering  peaks 
of  Monte  d'Oro  and  Monte  Rotondo,  the  forests 
hitched  on  their  shoulders  like  green  mantles,  the 
creased  vallevs  leading  down  their  rivers  to  the 
shore;  a  magic  kingdom  ringed  with  a  sea  of  iris 
blue;  a  kingdom  bequeathed  to  me.  A  few  months 
ago  I  had  shouted  with  joy  to  possess  it;  to-day,  with 
more  admiring  eyes,  I  worshipped  it  for  the  lists 
of  my  greater  adventure;  and  surely  Nat's  spirit 
marched  with  me  to  the  air  of  his  favourite  song: 

If  doughty  deeds  my  lady  please, 
Right  soon  I'll  mount  my  steed; 

And  strong  his  arm  and  fast  his  seat 
That  bears  frae  me  the  meed  .  .  . 

But,  in  fact,  it  was  not  until  the  third  morning 
of  our  journey  that  Marc'antonio  (who,  like  every 
Corsican,  abhorred  walking)  was  able  to  purchase  us 
a  steed  apiece  in  the  shape  of  two  lean  and  shaggy 
hill  ponies.  They  belonged  to  a  decayed  gentleman 
— of  the  best  blood  in  the  island,  as  he  assured  me — 

419 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

whom  poverty  had  driven  with  his  family  to  inhabit 
a  shepherd's  hut  above  the  Restorica  on  the  flank 
of  Monte  Rotondo  where  it  looks  towards  Corte. 
We  had  slept  the  night  under  his  roof,  and  I  remem- 
ber that  I  was  awakened  next  morning  on  my  bed 
of  dry  fern  by  the  small  chatter  of  the  children, 
themselves  awaking  one  by  one  as  the  daylight  broke. 
After  breakfast  our  host  led  us  down  to  the  pasture 
where  the  ponies  were  tethered;  and  when  he  and 
Marc'antonio  had  haggled  for  twenty  minutes,  and 
I  was  in  the  act  of  mounting,  three  of  the  children, 
aged  from  five  downwards,  came  toddling  with 
bunches  of  a  blue  flower  unknown  to  me,  but  much 
like  a  gentian,  which  they  had  gathered  on  the  edge 
of  the  tumbling  Restorica,  some  way  up-stream.  I 
took  my  bunch  and  pinned  it  on  my  hat  as  I  rode, 
hailing  the  omen: 

For  you  alone  I  ride  the  ring, 
For  you  I  wear  the  blue  .  .  . 

And — how  went  the  chorus? 

Then  tell  me  how  to  woo  thee,  love; 

O  tell  me  how  to  woo  thee! 
For  thv  dear  sake  nae  care  I'll  take 


The  only  care  taken  by  Marc'antonio  was  to  fol- 
low the  bridle-tracks  winding  among  the  foothills, 

420 


THE  GREAT  ADVEXTURE 

and  give  a  wide  berth  to  the  high-road  running  north 
and  south  through  Corte,  especially  to  the  bridges 
crossing  the  Golo  River,  at  each  of  which,  he  assured 
me,  we  should  find  a  guard  posted  of  Paoli's  militia. 
Luckily,  he  knew  all  the  fords,  and  in  the  hill-vil- 
lages off  the  road  the  inhabitants  showed  no  sus- 
picion of  us,  but  took  it  for  granted  that  we  were 
the  good  Paolists  we  passed  for.  Marc'antonio  an- 
swered all  their  guileless  questions  by  giving  out  that 
we  were  two  roving  commissioners  travelling  north- 
ward to  delimit  certain  pieve  in  the  Xebbio,  at  the 
foot  of  Cape  Corso — an  explanation  which  secured 
for  us  the  best  of  victuals  as  well  as  the  highest 
respect. 

For  a  while  our  course,  bending  roughly  parallel 
with  the  Golo,  led  us  almost  due  east,  and  at  length 
brought  us  out  upon  the  flat  shore  of  the  Tuscan 
Sea.  Here  the  mountains,  which  had  confined  us  to 
the  river  valley,  run  northward  with  a  sharp  twist, 
and,  turning  with  them,  we  rode  once  more  with  our 
faces  set  towards  our  destination,  keeping  the  tall 
range  on  our  left  hand,  and  on  our  right  the  melan- 
choly sea-marshes  where  men  cannot  dwell  for  the 
malaria,  and  where  for  hour  after  hour  we  rode  in 
a  silence  unbroken  save  by  the  plash  of  fish  in  the 
lagoon  or  the  cry  of  a  heron  solitary  among  the 
reeds.     This  desolation  lasted  all  the  way  to  Bigu- 

421 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

glia,  where  we  turned  aside  again  among  the  foothills 
to  avoid  the  fortress  of  Bastia  and  the  traffic  of  the 
roads  about  it.  Bevond  Bastia  we  were  safe  in  the 
fastnesses  of  Cape  Corso,  across  which,  from  this 
eastern  shore  to  the  western,  and  to  the  camp  at 
Olmeta,  one  only  pass  (so  Marc'antonio  informed 
me)  was  practicable.  I  gnessed  we  were  nearing  it 
when  he  began  to  mutter  to  himself  in  the  intervals 
of  scanning  the  crags  high  on  our  left;  for  this  was 
to  him,  he  confessed,  an  almost  unkno\vn  country. 
But  the  gap,  when  we  came  abreast  of  it,  could 
scarcely  be  mistaken.  With  a  glance  around,  as 
though  to  take  our  bearings,  he  abruptly  headed  off 
for  it,  and,  having  climbed  the  first  slope,  reined  up 
and  sat  for  a  moment,  rigid  in  his  saddle  as  a  statue, 
listening. 

The  sun  had  sunk  behind  the  range,  and  the 
herbage  at  our  feet  lay  in  a  bronze  shadow;  but 
light  still  bathed  the  sea  behind  us,  and  over  it  a 
company  of  gulls  kept  flashing  and  wheeling  and 
clamouring.  While  I  listened,  following  Marc'an- 
tonio's  example,  it  seemed  to  me  that  an  echo  from 
the  summit  directly  above  us  took  up  the  gulls'  cry 
and  repeated  it,  prolonging  the  note.  Marc'antonio 
lifted  and  waved  a  hand. 

"  That  will  be  Stephanu,"  he  announced;  and 
sure  enough,  before  we  had  pushed  a  couple  of  fur- 

422 


THE  GREAT  ADVENTURE 

longs  up  the  slope,  we  caiiglit  sight  of  Stephanu  de- 
scending a  steep  scree  to  meet  us. 

lie  and  Marc'antonio  nodded  salutation  brusquely, 
as  though  they  had  parted  but  a  few  hours  ago. 
Marc'antonio,  though  relieved  to  see  him,  wore  a 
judicial  frown. 

"What  of  the  Princess,  O  Stephanu?"  he  de- 
manded. 

"  The  Princess  is  well  enough  for  aught  I  know," 
answered  Stephanu,  with  a  glance  at  me. 

"  You  can  speak  before  the  cavalier.  He  knows 
not  everything  until  we  tell  him;  but  he  is  one  of 
us,  and  that  I  will  engage." 

Stephanu  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  The  Princess 
is  well  enough  for  aught. I  know,"  he  repeated. 

"  But  what  fool's  talk  is  this?  The  Prince  packed 
you  off,  meaning  mischief  of  some  kind — what  mis- 
chief you,  being  on  the  spot,  should  have  been  able 
to  guess." 

"  It  is  God's  truth,  then,  that  I  could  not,"  Ste- 
phanu admitted  sullenly;  "  and  what  is  more,  neither 
could  you  in  my  place  have  made  a  guess — no,  not 
with  all  your  wisdom." 

"But  you  travelled  back  with  all  speed?  You 
liave  seen  her? " 

"  I  travelled  back  with  all  speed."  Stephanu  re- 
peated the  words  as  a  child  repeats  a  lesson,  but 

423 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

whether  ironically  or  not  his  face  did  not  tell.  "  Also 
I  have  seen  her.    And  that  is  the  devil  of  it." 

"Will  you  explain?" 

"  She  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  me;  nor  with 
you.  I  told  her  that  you  would  be  upon  the  road 
and  following  close  after  me.  Naturally  I  said 
nothing  of  the  cavalier  here,  for  I  knew  noth- 
ing " 

"  Did  she  ask?  "  I  inquired. 

Stephanu  appeared  to  search  his  memory.  "  Now 
I  come  to  think  of  it  she  did  let  fall  a  word.  .  .  . 
But  I  for  my  part  supposed  you  to  be  dead;  and,  by 
the  way,  Signore,  you  will  accept  my  compliments  on 
your  recovery." 

Marc'antonio's  frown  had  deepened.  "  You  mean 
to  tell  me,  Stephanu,"  he  persisted,  "  that  the  Prin- 
cess will  have  none  of  us?  " 

"  She  bade  me  go  my  ways,  and  not  come  near 
her;  which  was  cold  welcome  for  a  man  after  a  nine 
days'  sweat.  She  added  that  if  I  or  Marc'antonio 
came  spying  upon  her  or  in  any  way  interfering 
until  she  sent  for  us,  she  would  appeal  to  her  brother 
against  us." 

"  Was  the  Prince  present  when  she  said  this?  " 

"  He  was  not.  He  was  away  hunting,  she  said,  in 
the  direction  of  Nonza;  but  in  fact  he  must  have 
gone  reconnoitring,  for  he  had  left  the  camp  all  but 

424 


THE  GREAT  ADVENTURE 

empty — no  one  at  home  but  Andrea  and  Jacopo 
Galloni,  whose  turn  it  was  with  the  cooking — these 
and  the  Princess.  But  the  Prince  has  returned  since 
then,  for  I  heard  his  horn  as  I  crossed  the  pass." 

Stephanu,  as  we  moved  forward,  kept  alongside 
Marc'antonio's  bridle,  or  as  nearly  alongside  as  the 
narrow  track  allowed.  I,  bringing  up  the  rear, 
could  not  see  the  trouble  in  Marc'antonio's  face,  but 
I  heard  it  in  his  voice  as  he  put  question  after  ques- 
tion. "The  Princess  was  not  a  prisoner?"  "No; 
nor  under  any  constraint  that  Stephanu  could  detect. 
She  had  her  gun;  was  in  fact  cleaning  and  oiling 
its  lock  very  leisurably  when  he  had  walked  into 
camp.  He  had  found  her  there,  seated  on  a  rock, 
with  Andrea  and  Jacopo  Galloni  at  a  little  distance 
below  preparing  the  meal  and  taking  no  notice  of 
her.  In  fact  they  could  not  see  her,  because  the 
rock  overhung  them." 

"  She  must  have  been  sitting  there  for  sentry.  At 
any  rate  there  was  no  other  guard  set  on  the  camp. 
Well,  if  so,  she  took  it  easily  enough;  but,  catching 
sight  of  me,  she  stood  up,  put  her  finger  to  her  lip 
and  pointed  over  the  ledge.  Thereupon  I  peered 
over,  but  drew  back  my  head  before  Andrea  and 
Jacopo  could  spy  me.  So  I  stood  before  her,  ex- 
pecting to  be  praised  for  the  despatch  I  had  made 
on  the  road;  but  she  praised  me  not.     She  motioned 

425 


SIR   JOHN    COJTSTANTINE 

me  to  follow  her  a  little  way  out  of  earshot  of  the 
men  below,  to  a  patch  of  tall-growing  junipers  within 
which,  when  first  we  pitched  camp,  she  had  chosen 
to  make  her  bower.  Then  she  turned  on  me,  and 
I  saw  that  in  some  way  I  had  vexed  her,  for  her 
eyes  were  wrathful;  and,  said  she,  'Why  have  you 
made  this  speed? '  '  Because,  O  Princess,  you  have 
need  of  me,'  I  answered.  '  I  have  no  need  of  you,' 
she  said.  '  Where  is  Marc'antonio?  And  the  young 
Englishman — is  he  yet  alive?'  '  O  Princess,'  I  an- 
swered again,  '  I  did  not  go  all  the  way  to  the  old 
camp,  but  only  so  far  that  the  man  Priske  could 
not  mistake  his  road  to  it.  Then,  having  put  him  in 
the  way,  I  turned  back  and  have  travelled  night  and 
day.  Of  the  young  Englishman  I  can  tell  you  noth- 
ing; but  of  Marc'antonio  I  can  promise  that  he  will 
be  on  the  road  and  not  far  behind  me.'  " 

^^  Grazie/'  muttered  Marc'antonio;  "but  how 
could  yoLi  be  sure  I  had  received  the  message?  " 

"  Because  the  Princess  had  charged  you  to  be  at 
that  post  until  released.  Therefore  I  knew  you 
would  not  have  quitted  it,  if  alive;  and  if  you  were 
dead — "  Stephanu  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  I  was 
in  a  hurry,  you  understand;  and  in  a  hurry  a  man 
must  take  a  few  risks." 

"  I  am  not  saying  you  did  ill,"  growled  Marc'an- 
tonio, slightly  mollified. 

426 


THE    GREAT    ADVENTURE 

"  The  Princess  said  so,  however.  '  You  are  a  fool, 
O  Stephanii,'  she  told  me ;  '  and  as  for  needing  you 
or  Marc'antonio,  on  the  contrary  I  forbid  you  both 
to  join  the  camp  for  a  while.  Go  back.  If  you 
meet  Marc'antonio  upon  the  road,  give  him  this  mes- 
sage for  me.'  '  But  where,  O  Princess,'  I  asked, 
'are  we  to  await  your  pleasure?'  'Fare  north,  if 
you  will,  to  Cape  Corso,'  she  said,  '  where  that  old 
mad  Englishman  boasts  that  he  will  reach  my 
mother  in  her  prison  at  Giraglia.  He  has  gone 
thither  alone,  refusing  help;  and  you  may  perhaps 
be  useful  to  him.'  " 

Marc'antonio's  growl  grew  deeper.  "  Was  that 
all?"  he  asked. 

"  That  was  all." 

"  Then  there  is  mischief  here.  The  Prince,  O 
Stephanu,  did  not  without  purpose  send  you  out  of 
the  way.  Now  whatever  he  purposed  he  must  have 
meant  to  do  quickly,  before  we  two  should  return 
to  the  camp " 

"  He  had  mischief  in  his  heart,  I  will  swear,"  as- 
sented Stephanu,  after  a  glance  at  me  and  another 
at  Marc'antonio,  who  reassured  him  with  a  nod. 
"  And  that  the  Princess  plainly  guessed,  by  her  man- 
ner at  parting,  when  I  set  out  with  the  man  Priske. 
She  was  sorry  enough  then  to  say  good-bye  to  me," 
he  added,  half-boastfully. 

•427 


SIE    JOHX    COXSTANTINE 

"  Nevertheless,"  answered  Marc'antonio  with 
some  sarcasm,  "  she  appears  to  have  neglected  to 
confide  to  you  what  she  feared." 

Stephanu  spread  out  his  hands.  "  The  Prince, 
and  the  reverend  Father — who  can  tell  what  passes 
in  their  minds? " 

"  ISTot  you,  at  any  rate !  Very  well  then : — the 
Princess  was  apprehensive.  .  .  .  Yet  now,  when 
the  mischief  (whatever  it  is)  should  either  be  done 
or  on  the  point  of  doing,  she  will  have  none  of  our 
help.  Clearly  she  knows  more,  yet  will  have  none 
of  our  help.  That  is  altogether  puzzling  to  me. 
.  .  .  And  she  sends  us  north.  .  .  .  Very  well  again; 
we  will  go  north,  but  not  far!  " 

He  glanced  back  at  me  over  his  shoulder.  I  read 
his  meaning — that  he  wished  to  plan  his  campaign 
privately  with  Stephanu — and,  reining  in  my  pony, 
I  fell  back  out  of  earshot. 

The  pass  above  us  stood  perhaps  three  thousand 
feet  above  the  shore  and  the  high-road  we  had  left; 
and  the  track,  when  it  reached  the  steeper  slopes, 
ran  in  long  zigzagging  terraces  at  the  angles  of 
which  our  ponies  had  sometimes  to  scramble  up 
stairways  cut  in  the  living  rock.  As  the  sun  sank 
a  light  mist  gradually  spread  over  the  coast  below 
us,  the  distant  islands  grew  dim,  and  we  rode  sus- 
pended, as  it  were,  over  a  bottomless  vale  and  a  sea 

428 


THE  GKEAT  ADVEXTUKE 

without  horizon.  Slowly,  out  of  these  ghostly 
wastes,  the  moon  lifted  herself  in  full  circle,  and  her 
rays,  crossing  the  cope  of  heaven,  lit  up  a  tall  grey 
crag  on  the  ridge  above  us,  and  the  stem  of  a  white- 
withered  or  blasted  bush  hanging  from  it — an  iso- 
lated mass  which  (my  companions  told  me)  marked 
the  summit  of  the  ascent. 

"  The  path  leads  round  the  base  of  it,"  said  Ste- 
phanu.  "  "VVe  shall  reach  it  in  another  twenty 
minutes." 

"  But  will  it  not  be  guarded?  "  I  asked. 

He  hunched  his  shoulders.  "  The  Prince  is  no 
general.  A  hundred  times  our  enemies  might  have 
destroyed  us;  but  they  prefer  to  leave  us  alone.  It 
is  more  humiliating." 

Marc'antonio  rode  forward  deep  in  thought,  his 
chin  sunk  upon  his  breast.  At  the  summit,  under 
the  shadow  of  the  great  rock,  he  reined  up,  and, 
slewing  himself  about  in  his  saddle,  addressed  Ste- 
phanu  again. 

"  As  I  remember,  there  is  a  track  below  which 
branches  off  to  the  right,  towards  I^onza.  It  will 
take  us  wide  of  Olmeta  and  we  can  strike  down  into 
the  lowland  somewhere  between  the  two.  The  Prin- 
cess commands  us  to  make  for  the  north;  so  we 
shall  be  obeying  her,  and  at  the  same  time  we  can 
bivouac  close  enough  to  take  stock  at  sunrise  and, 

429 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTIXE 

maybe,  learn  some  news  of  the  camp — yet  not  so 
close  that  our  horses  can  be  heard,  if  by  chance  one 
should  whmny." 

"  As  to  that  you  may  rest  easy,"  Stephanu  as- 
sured him.  "  It  is  known  that  many  of  the  farms 
below  keep  ponies  in  stable." 

From  the  pass  we  looked  straight  down  upon  an- 
other sea,  starlit  and  dimly  discernible,  and  upon 
slopes  and  mountain  spurs  descending  into  dense 
woodland  over  which,  along  the  bluffs  of  the  ridge, 
the  lights  of  a  few  lonely  hill-farms  twinkled.  Ste- 
phanu found  for  us  the  track  of  which  Marc'antonio 
had  spoken,  and  although  on  this  side  of  the  range 
the  shadows  of  the  crags  made  an  almost  total  dark- 
ness, our  ponies  took  us  down  at  a  fair  pace.  After 
thirty,  or  it  may  be  forty,  minutes  of  this  jolting 
and  (to  me)  entirely  haphazard  progress,  Marc'an- 
tonio again  reined  up,  on  the  edge  of  a  mountain 
stream  which  roared  across  our  path  so  loudly  as 
to  drown  his  instructions.  But  at  a  sign  from  him 
Stephanu  stepped  back  and  took  my  bridle,  and 
within  a  couple  of  minutes  I  felt  that  my  pony's  feet 
were  treading  good  turf  and,  at  a  cry  from  my  guide, 
ducked  my  head  to  avoid  the  boughs  as  we  threaded 
our  way  down  through  an  orchard  of  stalwart  olives. 

The  slope  grew  gentler  as  we  descended,  and 
eased  almost  to  a  level  on  the  verge  of  a  high-road 

430 


THE    GREAT    ADVENTURE 

running  north  and  south  under  the  glimmer  of  the 
moon — or  rather  of  the  pale  light  heralding  the 
moon's  advent.  Marc'antonio  looked  about  him  and 
climbed  heavily  from  his  saddle.  He  had  been  rid- 
ing since  dawn. 

I  followed  his  example,  though  with  difficulty — 
so  stiff  were  my  limbs;  picketed  my  pony;  and,  hav- 
ing unstrapped  the  blanket  from  my  saddle-bow, 
wrapped  it  about  me  and  stretched  myself  on  the 
thin  turf  to  munch  the  crust  Marc'antonio  proffered 
me — for  he  carried  our  common  viaticum. 

"  Never  grudge  a  hard  day's  work  when  'tis  over," 
said  he  as  he  passed  me  the  wine-skin.  "  Yonder 
side  of  the  mountain  breeds  malaria  even  in  winter, 
but  on  this  side  a  man  may  sleep  and  rise  fit  for  a 
bellyful." 

He  offered,  very  politely,  to  share  his  blanket  with 
Stephanu,  but  Stephanu  declined.  Those  two  might 
share  one  loyalty  and  together  take  counsel  for  it, 
but  between  them  as  men  there  could  be  no  liking 
nor  acceptance  of  favours, 

I  lay  listening  for  a  while  to  the  mutter  of  their 
voices  as  they  talked  there  together  under  the  olives ; 
but  not  for  long.  The  few  words  and  exclamations 
that  reached  me  carried  no  meaning.  In  truth 
I  was  worn  out.  Very  soon  the  chatter  of  the 
stream,  deep  among  the  trees — the  stream  which  we 

431 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

had  just  now  avoided — mixed  itself  up  with 
talk,  and  I  slept. 


their 


Of  a  sudden  I  started  up — sat  up  erect.  I  had 
been  dreaming,  and  in  my  dream  I  had  seen  two 
figures  pass  along  the  road  beyond  the  fringe  of  the 
trees.  They  had  passed  warily,  yet  hurriedly,  across 
the  patch  of  it  now  showing  white  between  the  olive- 
trunks,  under  the  risen  moon.  Yet  how  could  this 
have  happened  if  I  had  dreamed  it  merely?  For  the 
moon,  when  I  fell  asleep,  had  not  surmounted  the 
ridge  behind  me,  and  that  patch  of  road,  now  show- 
ing so  white  and  clear,  had  been  dim,  if  not  quite 
invisible.  Yet  I  could  be  sworn  that  two  figures 
had  passed  up  the  road  .  .  .  two  men  .  .  . 

Marc'antonio  and  Stephanu? — reconnoitring  per- 
haps? I  rubbed  my  eyes.  No:  Marc'antonio  and 
Stephanu  lay  a  few  paces  away,  stretched  in  pro- 
found sleep  under  the  moonlight  drifting  between 
the  olive-boughs;  and  yonder,  past  the  fringe  of  the 
orchard,  shone  the  patch  of  white  high-road.  Two 
figures,  half  a  minute  since,  had  passed  along  it.  I 
could  be  sworn  to  it,  even  while  reason  insisted  that 
I  had  been  dreaming. 

I  flung  off  my  rug,  and,  stepping  softly  to  the 
verge  of  the  orchard's  shadow,  peered  out  upon  the 
road.     To  my  right — that  is  to  say,  northward — it 

432 


THE    GREAT    ADVENTURE 

stretched  away  level  and  visibly  deserted  so  far  as 
the  bend,  little  more  than  a  gunshot  distant,  where 
it  curved  around  the  base  of  a  low  cliff  and  disap- 
peared. A  few  paces  on  this  side  of  the  cliff  glim- 
mered the  rail  of  a  footbridge,  and  to  this  spot  my 
ears  traced  the  sound  of  running  water  which  had 
been  singing  through  my  dreams — the  same  stream 
which  had  turned  us  aside  to  seek  our  bivouac.  Not 
even  yet  could  I  believe  that  my  two  wayfarers  had 
been  phantoms  merely.  I  had  given  them  two  min- 
utes' start  at  least,  and  by  this  time  they  might  easily 
have  passed  the  bend.  Threading  my  way  swiftly 
between  the  boles  of  the  olive-trees,  I  skirted  the 
road  to  the  edge  of  the  stream  and  stood  for  a  mo- 
ment at  pause  before  stepping  out  upon  the  foot- 
bridge and  into  the  moonlight. 

The  water  at  my  feet,  scarcely  seen  through  the 
dark  ferns,  ran  swift  and  without  noise  as  through 
a  trough  channelled  in  the  living  rock;  but  it 
brought  its  impetus  from  a  cascade  aloft  somewhere 
in  the  darkness  and  humming  with  a  low,  continuous 
thunder  as  of  a  mill  with  a  turning  wheel.  I  lifted 
my  head  to  the  sound,  and  in  that  instant  my  ears 
caught  a  slight  creak  from  the  footbridge  on  my 
left.  I  turned,  and  stood  rigid,  at  gaze.  A  woman 
was  stepping  across  the  bridge,  there  in  the  moon- 
light; a  slight  figure,  cloaked  and  hooded  and  hurry- 

433 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTIXE 

ing  fast;  a  woman,  with  a  gun  slung  behind  her  and 
the  barrel  of  it  glimmering.     It  was  the  Princess. 

I  let  her  pass,  and  as  she  turned  the  bend  of  the 
road  I  stole  out  to  the  footbridge  and  across  it  in 
pursuit.  I  knew  now  that  the  two  wayfarers  had 
not  been  phantoms  of  my  dreaming;  that  she  was 
following,  tracking  them,  and  that  I  must  track  and 
follow  her.  Bevond  the  bend  the  road  twisted  over 
a  low-lying  spur  of  the  mountain  between  outcrops 
of  reddish-coloured  rock,  and  then  ran  straight  for 
almost  three  hundred  yards,  with  olive-orchards  on 
either  hand;  so  that  presently  I  could  follow  and 
hold  her  in  sight,  myself  keeping  well  within  the 
trees'  line  of  shadow. 

Twice  she  turned  to  look  behind  her,  but  rapidly 
and  as  if  in  no  great  apprehension  of  pursuit;  or 
perhaps  her  own  quest  had  made  her  reckless.  At 
the  end  of  this  straight  and  almost  level  stretch  the 
road  rose  steeply  to  wind  over  another  foot-hill,  and 
here  she  broke  into  a  run.  I  pressed  after  her  up 
the  ascent,  and  from  the  knap  of  it,  with  a  shock, 
found  myself  looking  down  at  close  hand  upon  a 
small  bay  of  the  sea  with  a  white  edge  of  foam 
curving  away  into  a  loom  of  shore  above  which  a 
solitary  light  twinkled.  The  road,  following  the 
curve  of  the  shore  a  few  paces  above  the  waves,  lay 
bare  in  the  moonlight,  without  cover  to  right  or 
left,  until,  a  mile  away  perhaps,  it  melted  into  the 

434 


THE  GREAT  ADVEXTURE 

grey  of  night.  Along  that  distance  my  eyes  sought 
and  sought  in  vain  for  the  figure  that  had  been  run- 
ning scarcely  two  hundred  yards  ahead  of  me.  The 
Princess  had  disappeared. 

For  a  short  while  I  stood  utterly  at  fault;  but, 
searching  the  bushes  on  my  left,  I  was  aware  of  a 
parting  between  them,  overgrown  indeed,  yet  plainly 
indicating  a  track;  along  which  I  had  pushed  but 
two-score  of  paces — perhaps  less — before  a  light 
glimmered  between  the  greenery  and  I  stepped  into 
an  open  clearing  in  full  view  of  a  cottage,  the  light 
of  which  fell  obliquely  across  the  turf  through  a 
warped  or  cracked  window-shutter. 

*'  Camillo !  " — it  was  the  Princess's  voice,  half  im- 
perious, half  pleading;  and  from  beyond  the  angle 
of  the  cottage  wall  came  the  noise  of  a  latch  shaken. 
"  Open  to  me,  Camillo,  or  by  the  Mother  of  Christ 
I  will  blow  the  door  in!  I  have  a  gun,  Camillo,  and 
I  swear  to  you!  " 

The  challenge  was  not  answered.  Crouching  al- 
most on  all  fours,  I  sprang  across  the  ray  of  light 
and  gained  the  wall's  shadow.  There,  as  I  drew 
breath,  I  heard  the  latch  shaken  again,  more  im- 
patiently. 

"Camillo!" 

The  bolt  was  drawn.  Peering  around  the  angle 
of  the  wall,  I  saw  the  light  fall  full  on  her  face  as 
the  door  opened,  and  she  stepped  into  the  cottage. 

435 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

OKDEAL    AND    CHOOSING 

Thou  coward!     Yet 
Art  living?  canst  not,  wilt  not  find  the  road 
To  the  great  palace  of  magnificent  death? — 
Though  thousand  ways  lead  to  his  thousand  doors 
Which  day  and  night  are  still  unbarr'd  for  all. 

— Nat.  Lee,  (Edipus. 

"  !N^o  man  " — I  am  quoting  my  father — "  can  be 
great,  or  even  wise,  or  even,  properly  speaking,  a 
man  at  all,  until  he  has  burnt  his  boats";  but  I 
imagine  that  those  who  achieve  wisdom  and  great- 
ness burn  their  boats  deliberately  and  not — as  did  I, 
next  moment — upon  a  sudden,  wild  impulse. 

My  excuse  is,  the  door  was  already  closing  behind 
the  Princess.  I  loiew  she  had  tracked  the  Prince 
Camillo  and  his  confessor,  and  that  these  two  were 
within  the  cottage.  I  knew  nothing  of  their  busi- 
ness, save  that  it  must  be  shameful,  since  she  who 
had  detected  and  would  prevent  it  chose  to  hide  her 
knowledge  even  from  Marc'antonio  and  Stephanu. 
Then  much  rather  (you  may  urge)  would  she  choose 
to  hide  it  from  me.     The  objection  is  a  sound  one, 

436 


ORDEAL   AND    CHOOSIXG 

had  I  paused  to  consider  it;  but  (fortunately  or  un- 
fortunately, as  you  may  determine)  I  did  not.  She 
had  stepped  into  peril.  The  door  was  closing  behind 
her:  in  another  couple  of  seconds  it  would  be  bolted 
again.  I  sprang  for  it,  hurled  myself  in  through  the 
entry,  and  there,  pulling  myself  erect,  stared  about 
me. 

Four  faces  returned  my  stare;  four  faces,  and  all 
dismayed  as  though  a  live  bombshell  had  dropped 
through  the  doorway.  To  the  priest,  whom  my  im- 
pact had  flung  aside  against  the  wall,  I  paid  no  at- 
tention. My  eyes  fastened  themselves  on  the  table 
at  which,  with  a  lantern  and  some  scattered  papers 
between  them,  sat  two  men — the  Prince,  and  a  grey- 
haired  oiBcer  in  the  blue-and-white  Genoese  uni- 
form. The  Prince,  who  had  pushed  back  his  chair 
and  confronted  his  sister  with  hands  stretched  out 
to  cover  or  to  gather  up  the  papers  on  the  table, 
slewed  round  upon  me  a  face  that,  as  it  turned, 
slowly  stiffened  with  terror.  The  Genoese  officer 
rose  with  one  hand  resting  on  the  table,  while  with 
the  other  he  fumbled  at  a  silver  chain  hanging  across 
his  breast,  and  as  he  shot  a  glance  at  the  Prince  I 
could  almost  see  his  lips  forming  the  word  "  treach- 
ery." The  Princess's  consternation  was  of  all 
the  most  absolute.  "  The  croirn !  yVhere  is  the 
crowti?  " — as  I  broke  in,  her  voice,  half  imperious, 

437 


siE  joh:^  constantine 

half  supplicatory,  had  panted  out  these  words,  while 
with  outstretched  hand  and  forefinger  she  pointed 
at  the  table.  Her  hand  still  pointed  there,  rigid  as 
the  rest  of  her  body,  as  with  dilated  eyes  she  stared 
into  mine. 

"  Yes,  gentlemen,"  said  I  in  the  easiest  tone  I 
could  manage,  "  the  Princess  asks  you  a  question, 
which  allow  me  to  repeat.    Where  is  the  crown?  " 

"  In  the  devil's  name — "  gasped  the  Prince. 

The  Genoese  interrupted  him.  "  Shut  and  bolt 
the  door,"  he  commanded  the  priest,  sharply,  with 
a  nod. 

"  Master  Domenico,"  said  I,  "  if  you  move  so 
much  as  a  step,  I  will  shoot  you  through  the  body." 

The  Genoese  tugged  at  the  chain  on  his  breast 
and  drew  forth  a  whistle.  "  Signore,"  he  said  quietly 
and  with  another  side  glance  at  the  Prince,  '*  I  do 
not  know  your  name,  but  mine  is  Andrea  Fornari, 
and  I  command  the  Genoese  garrison  at  Xonza. 
Having  some  inherited  knowledge  of  the  Corsicans, 
and  some  fifty  years'  experience  of  my  own,  I  do 
not  walk  into  traps.  A  dozen  men  of  mine  stand 
within  call  here,  at  the  back  entrance,  and  my 
whistle  will  call  me  up  another  fifty.  Bearing  this 
in  mind,  you  will  state  your  business  here  as  peace- 
ably as  possible." 

"  Kevertheless,"   said  I,   "  since   I  have  taken  a 

438 


ORDEAL    AND    CnOOSING 

fancy — call  it  a  whim,  if  you  will — that  the  door 
remains  at  least  unbolted  .  .  ." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  It  will  help  you 
nothing." 

"  I  am  an  Englishman,"  said  I. 

"  Indeed?  Well,  I  have  heard  before  now  that  it 
will  explain  anything  and  everything;  but  my  poor 
understanding  scarcely  stretches  it  as  yet  to  cover 
your  presence  here." 

"  Faith,  sir,"  I  answered,  "  to  put  the  matter 
briefly,  I  am  here  because  the  Princess  is  here,  whom 
I  have  followed — though  without  her  knowledge — 
because  I  guessed  her  to  be  walking  into  peril." 

"  Excuse  me.  Without  her  knowledge,  you  say?  " 
The  Commandant  turned  to  the  Princess,  who  bowed 
her  head  but  continued  to  gaze  at  me  from  under 
her  lowered  brows. 

"  Absolutely,  sir." 

"  And  without  knowledge  of  her  errand  ?  Again 
excuse  me,  but  does  it  not  occur  to  you  that  you 
may  be  intruding  at  this  moment  upon  a  family 
affair?  " 

Here  the  Prince  broke  in  with  a  scornful  laugh. 
For  a  minute  or  so  his  brow  had  been  clearing,  but, 
though  he  sneered,  he  could  not  as  yet  meet  his 
sister's  eye.  I  noted  this  as  his  laugh  drew  my  gaze 
upon  him,  and  it  seemed  that  my  contempt  gave  me 

439 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

a  sudden  clear  insight;  for  I  found  myself  answer- 
ing the  Commandant  very  deliberately: 

"  The  Princess,  sir,  until  a  moment  ago,  perhaps 
knew  not  whether  I  was  alive  or  dead,  and  certainly 
knew  not  that  I  was  within  a  hundred  miles  of  this 
place.  Had  she  known  it,  she  would  as  certainly 
not  have  confided  her  errand  to  me,  mixed  up  as  it  is 
with  her  brother's  shame.  She  would,  I  dare  rather 
wager,  have  taken  great  pains  to  hide  it  from  me. 
And  yet  I  will  not  pretend  that  I  am  quite  ig- 
norant of  it,  as  neither  will  I  allow — family  affair 
though  it  be — that  I  have  no  interest  in  it,  seeing 
that  it  concerns  the  crown  of  Corsica." 

The  Commandant  glanced  at  the  Prince,  then  at 
the  priest,  who  stood  passive,  listening,  with  his  back 
to  the  wall,  his  loose-lidded  eyes  studying  me  from 
the  lantern's  penumbra. 

"  What  possible  interest — "  began  the  Comman- 
dant. 

"  By  the  crown  of  Corsica,"  I  interrupted,  "  I 
mean  the  material  crown  of  the  late  King  Theodore, 
at  this  moment  concealed  (if  I  mistake  not)  some- 
where in  this  cottage.  In  it  I  may  claim  a  certain 
interest,  seeing  that  I  brought  it  from  England  to 
this  island,  and  that  the  Prince  Camillo  here — 
whose  father  gave  it  to  me — is  trading  it  to  you  by 
fraud.     Yes,  messere,  he  may  claim  that  it  belongs 

440 


ORDEAL   AND    CIIOOSING 

to  him  ])\  right;  but  he  obtained  it  from  me  by 
fraud,  as  neither  he  nor  his  sister  can  deny.  This 
perhaps  might  pass,  but  when  he — he  a  son  of  Cor- 
sica— goes  on  to  sell  it  to  Genoa,  I  reassert  my 
claim." 

Again  the  Commandant  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
It  consoled  me  to  note  that  his  glance  at  the  Prince 
was  by  no  means  an  admiring  one. 

"  I  am  a  soldier,"  he  said  curtly.  "  I  do  not  deal 
in  sentiment;  nor  is  it  my  business,  when  a  bargain 
comes  to  me — a  bargain  in  which  I  can  serve  my 
country — to  inquire  into  how's  and  why's." 

"  I  grant  that,  sir,"  said  I.  "  It  is  your  business, 
now  that  the  crown — with  what  small  profit  may  go 
with  it — lies  in  your  grasp,  to  grasp  it  for  Genoa. 
But  as  a  soldier  and  a  brave  man,  you  understand  that 
now  you  must  grasp  it  by  force.  God  knows  in  what 
hope,  if  in  any,  the  Princess  here  tracked  out  your 
plot;  but  at  least  she  can  compel  you — I  can  com- 
pel you — we  two,  weak  as  we  are,  can  compel  you — 
to  use  force.  The  honour  of  a  race — and  that  a  royal 
one — shall  at  least  not  pass  to  you  on  the  mere 
signature  of  that  coward  sitting  there."  I  swung 
round  upon  the  Prince.  "  You  may  give  up  trying 
to  hide  those  i)apers,  sir,  since  every  one  in  this  room 
knows  what  compact  you  were  in  the  act  of  signing." 

The  Princess  stepped  forward.     "  All  this,"  she 

441 


SIR   JOim    CONSTANTINE 

said  to  me  in  a  low,  bard  voice,  "  I  could  have  done 
without  help  of  you."  Her  tone  promised  that  she 
would  never  forgive,  but  she  looked  only  at  her 
brother.  "  Camillo,"  she  said,  standing  before  him, 
"  this  Englishman  has  said  only  what  I  came  to  say. 
It  is  not  my  fault  that  he  is  here  and  has  guessed. 
When  I  was  sure,  I  hid  my  knowledge  even  from 
Marc'antonio  and  Stephanu;  and  he — he  shall  die 
for  having  overheard.  The  Genoese  will  see  to  that, 
and  the  Commandant,  as  he  is  a  gentleman,  will 
write  in  his  report  that  he  took  the  crown  from  us, 
having  caught  us  at  unawares.  ...  I  cannot  shoot 
you,  my  brother.  Even  you  would  not  ask  this  of 
me — of  me  that  have  served  you,  and  that  serve  you 
now  in  the  end.  .  .  .  See,  I  make  no  reproaches. 
.  .  .  We  were  badly  brought  up,  we  two,  and  when 
you  were  young  and  helpless,  vile  men  took  hold  on 
you  and  taught  you  to  be  capable  of — of  this  thing. 
But  we  are  Colonne,  we  two,  and  can  end  as 
Colonne."  She  dipped  a  hand  within  the  bosom  of 
her  bodice  and  drew  out  a  phial.  "  Dear,  I  will 
drink  after  you.  It  will  not  be  hard;  no,  believe  me, 
it  will  not  be  so  very  hard — a  moment,  a  pang  per- 
haps, and  everything  will  yet  be  saved.  O  brother, 
what  is  a  pang,  a  moment,  that  you  can  weigh  it 
against  a  lifetime  of  dishonour!  " 
The  Prince  sprang  up  cursing. 

442 


ORDEAL    AND    CHOOSING 

"  Dishonour?  And  who  are  you  that  talk  to  me 
of  dishonour? — you  that  come  straying  here  out  of 
the  night  with  your  cicisheo  at  your  heels?  You, 
with  the  dew  on  you  and  your  dress  bedraggled, 
come  straight  from  companioning  in  the  woods  and 
prate  to  me  of  shame — of  the  blood  of  the  Colonne!  " 
He  smote  a  hand  on  the  table  and  spat  forth  a 
string  of  vile  names  upon  her,  mixed  with  curses; 
abominable  words  before  which  she  drew  back 
cowering,  yet  less  (I  think)  from  the  lash  of  them 
than  from  shock  and  horror  of  his  incredible  base- 
ness. Passion  twisted  his  mouth,  his  tongue  stam- 
mered with  the  gush  of  his  abuse;  but  he  was  lying, 
and  knew  that  he  was  lying,  for  his  eyes  would  meet 
neither  hers  nor  mine.  Only  after  drawing  breath 
did  he  for  a  moment  look  straight  at  her,  and  then 
it  was  to  demand:  "And  who,  pray,  has  driven  me 
to  this?  What  has  made  Corsica  so  bitter  to  me 
that  in  weariness  I  am  here  to  resign  it?  You,  my 
sister — you,  and  what  is  known  of  you.  .  .  .  Why 
can  I  do  nothing  with  the  patriots  ?  Why  were  there 
no  recruits?  Why,  when  I  negotiated,  did  the  Pao- 
lists  listen  as  to  a  child  and  smile  politely  and  show 
me  their  doors?  Again,  because  of  you,  O  my  sister! 
— because  there  is  not  a  household  in  Corsica  but  has 
heard  whisperings  of  you,  and  of  Brussels,  and  of 
the  house  in  Brussels  where  you  were  sought  and 

443 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

found.  Blood  of  the  Colonne! — and  now  the  blood 
of  the  Colonne  takes  an  English  lover  to  warm  it! 
Blood  of " 

With  one  hand  I  caught  him  by  the  throat,  with 
the  other  by  the  girdle,  and  flung  him  clean  across 
the  table  into  the  corner,  oversetting  the  lantern, 
but  not  extinguishing  the  light,  for  the  Commandant 
caught  it  up  deftly.  As  he  set  it  back  on  the  table  I 
heard  him  grunt,  and — it  seemed  to  me — with  ap- 
proval. 

"  I  will  allow  no  shooting,  sir,"  said  he,  quickly, 
yet  with  easy  authority,  noting  my  hand  go  down  to 
my  gun-stock. 

"  You  misunderstand  me,"  I  answered,  and  in- 
deed I  was  but  shifting  its  balance  on  my  bandolier, 
which  had  slipped  awry  in  the  struggle.  "  There  are 
reasons  why  I  cannot  kill  this  man.  But  you  will 
give  me  leave  to  answer  just  two  of  his  slanders  upon 
this  lady.  It  is  false  that  I  came  here  to-night  by 
her  invitation  or  in  her  company,  as  it  is  God's  truth 
that  for  many  months  until  we  met  in  this  room  and 
in  your  presence  she  has  not  set  eyes  on  me.  She 
could  not  have  known  even  that  I  lived  since  the 
hour  when  her  brother  there — yes.  Princess,  your 
brother  there — left  me  broken  and  maimed  at  the 
far  end  of  the  island.  For  the  rest  he  utters  slan- 
ders to  which  I  have  no  clue  save  that  1  know  them 

444 


ORDEAL    AND    CHOOSING 

to  be  slanders.  But  at  a  venture,  if  you  would  know 
how  they  grew  and  who  nurtured  them,  I  think  the 
priest  yonder  can  tell  you." 

The  Commandant  waved  a  hand  politely.  "  You 
have  spoken  well,  sir.  Believe  me,  on  this  pomt  no 
more  is  necessary.  I  have  no  doubt — there  can  be 
no  doubt — that  the  Prince  lies  under  a  misapprehen- 
sion. Nevertheless,  there  are  circumstances  which 
bind  me  to  oblige  him  " — he  paused — "  and  you 
will  admit  that  you  have  placed  the  lady — thought- 
lessly no  doubt — in  a  delicate  situation." 

"  Well  and  good,  sir,"  I  replied.  "  If,  in  your 
opinion  as  a  man  of  honour,  the  error  demands  a 
victim,  by  all  means  call  in  your  soldiers  and  settle 
me.  I  stipulate  only  that  you  escort  the  lady  back 
to  her  people  with  honour  under  a  flag  of  truce;  and 
I  protest  only,  as  she  has  protested,  that  this  traitor 
has  no  warrant  to  sell  vou  his  countrv's  rights." 

The  Prince  had  picked  himself  up,  and  stood 
sulkily,  still  in  his  corner.  I  suppose  that  he  was 
going  to  answer  this  denunciation,  when  the  priest's 
voice  broke  in,  smooth  and  unctuous. 

"  Pardon  me,  messeri,  but  there  occurs  to  me  a 
more  excellent  way.  This  Englishman  has  brought 
dishonour  on  one  of  the  Colonne:  therefore  it  is 
most  necessary  that  he  should  die.  But  before  dying 
let  him  make  the  only  reparation — and  marry  her." 

445 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

I  turned  on  him,  staring:  and  in  the  flicker  of  his 
eyes  as  he  lifted  them  for  one  instant  towards  his 
master,  I  read  the  whole  devilish  cunning  of  the 
plot.  They  might  securely  let  her  go,  as  an  English- 
man's widow.  The  fact  had  merely  to  be  pro- 
claimed and  the  islanders  would  have  none  of  her. 
I  am  glad  to  remember  that — my  brain  keeping 
clear,  albeit  my  pulse,  already  fast  enough,  leapt 
hotly  and  quickened  its  speed — I  had  presence  of 
mind  to  admire  the  suggestion  coolly,  impersonally, 
and  quite  as  though  it  aifected  me  no  jot. 

The  Commandant  bent  his  brows.  Behind  them 
— as  it  seemed  to  me — I  could  read  his  thought 
working. 

"  If  you,  sir,  have  no  objection,"  he  said  slowly, 
looking  up  and  addressing  me  with  grave  politeness, 
"  I  see  much  to  be  said  for  the  reverend  father's 
proposal." 

He  turned  to  the  Prince,  who — cur  that  he  was — 
directed  his  spiteful  glee  upon  his  sister. 

"  It  appears,  O  Camilla,  that  in  our  race  to  save 
each  other's  honour  I  am  to  be  winner.  Nay,  you 
may  wear  your  approaching  widowhood  with  dig- 
nity, and  boast  in  time  to  come  that  your  husband 
once  bore  the  crown  of  Corsica." 

"  Prince  Camillo,"  said  the  Commandant  quietly, 

I  am  here  to-night  in  the  strict  service  of  my  Re- 

446 


a 


ORDEAL    AND    CHOOSING 

public,  to  do  my  best  for  her:  but  I  warn  you  that 
if  you  a  second  time  address  your  sister  in  that  tone 
I  shall  reserve  the  right  to  remember  it  later  as  a 
plain  Genoese  gentleman.  Sir,"  he  faced  about  and 
addressed  me  again,  "  am  I  to  understand  that  you 
accept? " 

I  looked  at  the  Princess.  She  met  my  look 
proudly,  with  eyes  set  in  a  face  pale  as  death.  I 
could  not  for  the  life  of  me  read  whether  they  for- 
bade me  or  implored.  They  seemed  to  forbid,  pro- 
test .  .  .  and  yet  (the  bliss  of  it!)  for  one  half -in- 
stant they  had  also  seemed  to  implore.  Thank  God 
at  least  they  did  not  scorn! 

"  Princess,"  I  said,  "  these  men  propose  to  do  me 
an  infinite  honour — an  honour  far  above  my  de- 
serving— and  to  kill  me  while  my  heart  yet  beats 
with  the  pride  of  it.  Yet  say  to  me  now  if  I  must 
renounce  it,  and  I  will  die  bearing  you  no  grudge. 
Take  thought,  not  of  me,  but  of  yourself  only,  and 
sign  to  me  if  I  must  renounce." 

Still  she  eyed  me,  pale  and  unblinking.  Her 
bosom  panted,  and  for  a  moment  she  half-raised  her 
hand;  but  dropped  it  again. 

"  I  think,  sir,"  said  I,  facing  around  on  the  Com- 
mandant, "  I  think  bv  this  time  the  dav  must  be 
breaking — if  you  will  kindly  open  the  shutters. 
Also  you  would  oblige  me  further — set  it  down  to 

447 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

an  Englishman's  whim — by  forming  up  your  men 
outside,  and  we  will  have  a  soldier's  wedding." 

"  Willingly,  cavalier."  The  Commandant  stepped 
to  the  shutter  and  unbarred  it,  letting  in  daylight 
with  the  cool  morning  breeze — a  greenish-grey  day- 
light, falling  across  the  glade  without  as  softly  as 
ever  through  cathedral  aisles,  and  a  breeze  that  was 
wine  to  the  taste  as  it  breathed  through  the  ex- 
hausted air  of  the  cottage — a  sacramental  dawn,  and 
somewhere  deep  in  the  arcades  of  the  tree-boles  a 
solitary  bird  singing! 

The  Commandant  leaned  forth  and  blew  his 
whistle.  The  bird's  song  ceased  abruptly  and  was 
followed  by  the  tramp  of  men.  My  brain  worked 
so  clearly,  I  could  almost  count  their  footsteps.  I 
saw  them,  across  the  Commandant's  shoulder,  as  they 
filed  past  the  corner  of  the  window  and,  having 
formed  into  platoon,  grounded  arms,  the  butts  of 
their  muskets  thudding  softly  on  the  turf — a  score 
of  men  in  blue-and-white  uniforms,  spick  and  span 
in  the  clear  morning  light. 

I  counted  them  and  drew  a  long  breath. 

"  Master  priest,"  said  I,  and  held  out  my  hand 
to  the  Princess,  "  in  your  Church,  I  believe,  matri- 
mony is  a  sacrament.  If  you  are  ready,  I  am 
ready." 

His    loose    lip   twitched    as   he    stepped    forward. 

448 


ORDEAL   AND    CHOOSING 

.  .  .  When  he  paused  in  his  muttering  I  lifted  the 
Princess's  cold  hand  and  drew  a  seal  from  my 
pocket — a  heavy  seal  with  a  ring  attached,  which  I 
fitted  on  her  finger;  and  so  I  held  her  hand,  letting 
drop  on  it  by  degrees  the  weight  of  the  heavy  seal. 

From  the  first  she  had  offered  no  resistance,  made 
no  protest.  I  pressed  the  seal  into  the  palm  of  her 
hand,  not  telling  her  that  it  was  her  own  father's 
great  seal  of  Corsica.  But  I  folded  her  fingers  back 
on  it,  the  one  yet  encircled  by  the  ring,  and  said  I, 
"  It  is  the  best  I  can  give  ";  and  a  little  later,  "  It 
is  all  I  brought  in  my  pockets  but  this  handkerchief. 
Take  that,  too;  lead  me  out;  and  bandage  my  eyes, 
my  wife." 

She  took  my  arm  obediently  and  we  stepped  out 
by  the  doorway,  bridegroom  and  bride,  in  face  of  the 
soldiery.  A  sergeant  saluted  and  came  forward  for 
the  Commandant's  orders. 

"  A  moment,  sir,"  said  I,  and,  touching  the  Com- 
mandant's arm,  I  nodded  towards  the  bole  of  a 
stout  pine-tree  across  the  clearing.  "  Will  that  dis- 
tance suit  you? " 

He  nodded  in  reply,  and  as  I  swung  on  my  heel 
touched  my  arm  in  his  turn. 

"  You  will  do  me  the  honour,  sir,  to  shake 
hands?" 

"  Most  willingly,  sir."     I  shook  hands  with  him, 

449 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

casting,  as  I  did  so,  a  glance  over  my  shoulder  at  the 
Prince  and  Father  Domenico,  who  hung  back  in  the 
doorway — two  men  afraid.  "  Come,"  said  I  to  the 
Princess,  and,  as  she  seemed  to  hesitate,  "  Come,  my 
wife,"  I  commanded,  and  walked  to  the  pine-tree, 
she  following.  I  held  out  the  handkerchief.  She 
took  it,  still  obediently,  and  as  she  took  it  I  clasped 
her  hand  and  lifted  it  to  my  lips. 

"  Nay,"  said  I,  challenging,  "  what  was  it  you  told 
your  brother?  A  moment — a  pang — what  are  they 
to  weigh  against  a  lifetime  of  dishonour?  " 

I  saw  her  blench :  yet  even  while  she  bandaged  me 
at  my  bidding,  I  did  not  arrive  at  understanding  the 
folly — the  cruel  folly  of  that  speech.  Nay,  even 
when,  having  bandaged  me,  she  stepped  away  and 
left  me,  I  considered  not  nor  surmised  what  second 
meaning  might  be  read  in  it. 

Shall  I  confess  the  truth?  I  was  too  consciously 
playing  a  part  and  making  a  handsome  exit.  After 
all,  had  I  not  some  little  excuse?  .  .  .  Here  was  I, 
young,  lusty,  healthful,  with  a  man's  career  before 
me,  and  across  it,  trenched  at  my  feet,  the  grave.  A 
saying  of  Billy  Priske's  comes  into  my  mind — a  word 
spoken,  years  after,  upon  a  poor  fisherman  of  Con- 
stantine  parish  whose  widow,  as  by  will  directed, 
spent  half  his  savings  on  a  tombstone  of  carved 
granite.     "  A  man,"  said  Billy,   "  must  cut  a  dash 

450 


ORDEAL    AXD    CHOOSING 

once  in  his  lifetime,  though  the  chance  don't  come 
till  he's  dead  "...  Looking  back  across  these  years, 
I  can  smile  at  the  hoy  I  was  and  forgive  his  poor 
brave  flourish.  But  his  speech  was  thoughtless:  the 
woman  (ah !  but  he  knows  her  better  now)  was  with- 
drawn with  its  wound  in  her  heart:  and  between 
them  Death  was  stepping  forward  to  make  the  mis- 
understanding final. 

I  remember  setting  my  shoulder-blades  firmly 
against  the  bole  of  the  tree.  A  kind  of  indignation 
sustained  me — scorn  to  be  cut  off  thus,  scorn 
especially  for  the  two  cowards  by  the  doorway. 
They  were  talking  with  the  Commandant.  Their 
voices  sounded  across  the  interval  between  me  and 
the  firing  party.    Why  were  they  wasting  time?  .  .  . 

I  could  not  distinguish  their  words,  save  that  twice 
I  heard  the  Prince  curse  viciously.  The  hound 
(I  told  myself,  shutting  my  teeth)  might  have  re- 
strained his  tongue  for  a  few  moments — a  few  mo- 
ments only. 

The  voices  ceased.  In  a  long  pause  I  heard  the 
insects  humming  in  the  grasses  at  my  feet.  Would 
the  moment  never  come? 

It  came  at  last.  A  flash  of  light  winked  above  the 
edge  of  my  bandage  and  close  upon  it  broke  the 
roar  and  rattle  of  the  volley  .  .  .  Death?  I  put 
out  my  hands  and  groped  for  it.    Where  was  Death  ? 

451 


SIR   JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

!N^ay,  perhaps  this  was  Death?  If  so,  what  fools 
were  men  to  fear  it!  The  hum  of  the  insects  had 
given  place  to  silence — absolute  silence.  If  bullet 
had  touched  me,  I  had  felt  no  pang  at  all.  I  was 
standing,  yes,  surely  I  was  standing  .  .  .  Slowly  it 
broke  on  me  that  I  was  unhurt,  that  they  had  fired 
wide,  prolonging  their  sport  with  me;  and  I  tore 
away  the  bandage,  crying  out  upon  them  to  finish 
their  cruelty. 

At  a  little  distance  sat  the  Princess  watching  me, 
her  gun  across  her  knees.  Beyond  her  and  beyond 
the  cottage,  by  the  edge  of  the  wood  the  firing  party 
had  fallen  into  rank  and  were  marching  off  among 
the  pine-stems,  the  Prince  and  Father  Domenico 
with  them.  I  stared  stupidly  after  the  disappearing 
uniforms,  and  put  out  a  hand  as  if  to  brush  away 
the  smoke  which  yet  floated  across  the  clearing. 
The  Commandant,  turning  to  follow  his  men,  at  the 
same  moment  lifted  his  hand  in  salute.  So  he,  too, 
passed  out  of  sight. 

I  turned  to  the  Princess :  and  she  arose  slowly  and 
came  to  me. 


452 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

THE    WOOING    OF    PRINCESS    CAMILLA 

Take  heed  of  loving  me, 
At  least  remember  I  forbade  it  thee; 
If  thou  love  me,  take  heed  of  loving  me. 

— Donne,  The  Prohibition. 

"  You  have  conquered." 

She  had  halted,  a  pace  or  two  from  me,  with  down- 
cast eyes.  She  said  it  very  slowly,  and  I  stared  at 
her  and  answered  with  an  unmeaning  laugh. 

"  Forgive  me.  Princess.  I — I  fancy  my  poor  wits 
have  been  shaken  and  need  a  little  time  to  recover. 
At  any  rate,  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  You  have  conquered,"  she  repeated  in  a  low  voice 
that  dragged  upon  the  words.  Then,  after  a  pause. 
— "  You  remember,  once,  promising  me  that  at  the 
last  I  should  come  and  place  my  neck  under  your 
foot.  .  .  ."  She  glanced  up  at  me  and  dropped  her 
eyes  again.  "  Yes,  I  see  that  you  remember.  Eccu 
...   I  am  here." 

"  I  remember,  Princess :  but  even  yet  I  do  not  un- 
derstand. Why,  and  for  what,  should  you  beseech 
me?" 

453 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

"  In  the  first  place  for  death.  I  am  your  wife. 
.  .  ."  She  broke  off  with  a  shiver.  "  There  is 
something  in  the  name,  messere — is  there  not? — 
that  should  move  you  to  kindness,  as  a  sportsman 
takes  his  game  not  unkindly  to  break  its  neck.  That 
is  all  I  ask  of  you " 

"  Princess !  " 

She  lifted  a  hand.  " — except  that  you  will  let 
me  say  what  I  have  to  say.  You  shall  think  hard 
thoughts  of  me,  and  I  will  make  them  harder;  but 
for  your  own  sake  you  shall  put  away  vile  ones — if 
you  can." 

I  stared  at  her  stupidly,  dizzied  a  little  with  the 
words  /  am  your  wife  humming  in  my  brain.  Or 
say  that  I  am  naturally  not  quick-witted,  and  I  will 
plead  that  for  once  my  dulness  did  me  no  discredit. 

At  all  events  it  saved  me  for  the  moment :  for  while 
I  stared  at  her,  utterly  at  a  loss,  a  crackle  of  twigs 
warned  us  and  we  turned  together  as,  by  the  pathway 
leading  from  the  high-road,  the  bushes  parted  and 
the  face  of  Marc'antonio  peered  through  upon  the 
clearing. 

"  Salutation,  O  Princess !  "  said  he  gravely,  and 
stepped  out  of  cover  attended  by  Stephanu,  who  like- 
wise saluted. 

The  Princess  drew  herself  up  imperiously.  "  I 
thought,   O   Stephanu,   that  I  had  made  plain  my 

454 


THE    WOOING    OF    PKINCESS    CAMILLA 

orders,  that  you  two  were  neither  to  follow  nor  to 
watch  me  ?  " 

"  Nevertheless,"  Marc'antonio  made  answer, 
"  when  one  misses  a  comrade  and  hears,  at  a  little 
distance,  the  firing  of  a  volley — not  to  mention  that 
some  one  has  been  burning  gunpowder  hereabouts," 
he  wound  up,  sniffing  the  air  with  an  expression  that 
absurdly  reminded  me  of  our  Vicar,  at  home,  tasting 
wine. 

"  I  warn  you,  O  Marc'antonio,"  said  the  Princess, 
"  to  be  wise  and  ask  no  more  questions." 

"  I  have  asked  none,  O  Princess,"  he  answered 
again  still  very  gravely,  and  after  a  glance  at  me 
turned  to  Stephanu.  "  But  it  runs  in  my  head,  com- 
rade, that  the  time  has  come  to  consider  other  things 
than  wisdom." 

"  For  example  ?  "  I  challenged  him  sharply. 

"  For  example,  cavalier,  that  I  cannot  reconcile 
this  smell  with  any  Corsican  gunpowder." 

"  And  you  are  right,"  said  I.  "  Nay,  Princess, 
you  have  sworn  not  long  since  to  obey  me,  and  I 
choose  that  they  shall  know.  That  salvo,  sirs,  was 
fired,  five  minutes  ago,  by  the  Genoese." 

"  A  salvo  did  you  say,  cavalier  ?  " 

"  For  our  wedding,  Marc'antonio."  I  took  the 
Princess's  hand — which  neither  yielded  nor  resisted 
— and,  lifting  it  a  little  way,  released  it  to  fall  again 

455 


SIK    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

limply.  So  for  a  while  there  was  silence  between  us 
four. 

"  Marc'antonio/'  said  I,  "  and  you,  Stephanu — it 
is  I  now  who  speak  for  the  Princess  and  decide  for 
her :  and  I  decide  that  you,  who  have  served  her  faith- 
fully, deserve  to  be  told  all  the  truth.  It  is  truth, 
then,  that  we  are  married.  The  priest  who  mar- 
ried us  was  Fra  Domenico,  and  with  assent  of  his 
master  the  Prince  Camillo.  I  can  give  you,  more- 
over, the  name  of  the  chief  witness:  he  is  a  certain 
Signor  or  General  Andrea  Fornari,  and  commands 
the  Genoese  garrison  in  Nonza." 

"  Princess !  "  Marc'antonio  implored  her. 

"  It  is  true,"  said  she.  "  This  gentleman  has  done 
me  much  honour,  having  heard  what  my  brother  chose 
to  say." 

"  But  I  do  not  understand — "  The  honest  fellow 
cast  a  wild  look  around  the  clearing.  "  Ah,  yes — 
the  volley!  They  have  taken  the  Prince,  and  shot 
him.  .  .  .  But  his  body — they  would  not  take  his 
body — and  you  standing  here  and  allowing  it " 

"  My  friends,"  I  interrupted,  "  they  have  cer- 
tainly taken  his  body,  and  his  soul  too,  for  that  mat- 
ter; and  I  doubt  if  you  can  overtake  either  on  this 
side  of  Nonza.  But  with  him  you  will  find  the  crown 
of  Corsica  and  the  priest  who  helped  him  to  sell  it. 
I  tell  you  this,  who  are  clansmen  of  the  Colonne: 

456 


THE    WOOING    OF    PRINCESS    CAMILLA 

and  your  mistress,  who  discovered  the  plot  and  was 
here  to  hinder  it,  will  confirm  me." 

Their  eyes  questioned  her;  not  for  long.  In  the 
droop  of  her  bowed  head  was  confirmation  enough. 

"  And  therefore,"  I  went  on,  "  you  tsvo  can  have 
no  better  business  than  to  help  me  convey  the  Princess 
northward  and  bring  her  to  her  mother,  whom  in  this 
futile  following  after  a  wretched  boy,  you  have  all  so 
strangely  forgotten.  By  God !  "  said  I,  "  there  is 
but  one  man  in  Corsica  who  has  hunted,  this  while, 
on  a  true  scent  and  held  to  it,  and  he  is  an  English- 
man, solitary  and  faithful  at  this  moment  upon  Cape 
Corso!" 

"  Your  pardon,  cavalier,"  answered  Marc'antonio 
after  a  slow  pause.  "  What  you  say  is  just,  in  part, 
and  I  am  not  denying  it.  But  so  we  saw  not  our 
duty,  since  the  Queen  Emilia  bade  us  follow  her  son. 
With  him  wc  have  hunted  (as  you  tell  us)  too  long 
and  upon  a  false  scent.  Be  it  so:  but,  since  this  has 
befallen,  we  must  follow  on  the  chase  a  little  further. 
For  you,  you  have  now  the  right  to  protect  our  well- 
])eloved — not  only  to  the  end  of  Cape  Corso,  but  to 
the  end  of  the  world.  But  for  us,  w^ho  are  two  men 
used  to  obey,  the  Princess  your  wife  must  suffer  us 
to  disobey  her  now  for  the  first  time.  The  road  to 
the  Cape,  avoiding  Xonza,  is  rough  and  steep  and 
must  be  travelled  afoot ;  vet  I  think  vou  twain  can 

457 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

accomplish  it.  At  the  Cape,  if  God  will,  we  will  meet 
you  and  stand  again  at  your  service ;  but  we  travel 
by  another  road — the  road  which  does  not  avoid 
Nonza." 

He  glanced  at  Stephann,  who  nodded. 

"  Farewell  then,  O  Princess ;  and  if  this  be  the 
end  of  onr  service,  forgive  what  in  the  past  has  been 
done  amiss.  Farewell,  O  cavalier,  and  be  happy  to 
protect  her  in  perils  wherein  we  were  powerless." 

The  Princess  stretched  out  both  hands. 

"  Nay,  mistress,"  said  Marc'antonio  with  another 
glance  at  Stephanu ;  "  but  first  cross  them,  that  there 
be  no  telling  the  right  from  the  left:  for  we  are 
jealous  men." 

She  crossed  them  obediently,  and  the  two  took  each 
a  hand  and  kissed  it. 

Now  all  this  while  I  could  see  that  she  was  strug- 
gling for  speech,  and  as  they  released  her  hands  she 
found  it. 

"  But  wherefore  must  you  go  by  Nonza,  O  Marc'- 
antonio ?     And  how  many  will  you  take  with  you  ?  " 

Marc'antonio  put  the  question  aside.  "  We  go 
alone,  Princess.  You  may  call  it  a  reconnaissance, 
on  which  the  fewer  taken  the  better." 

"  You  will  not  kill  him! — Nay,  then,  O  Marc'an- 
tonio, at  least — at  least  you  will  not  hurt  him!  " 

"  We  hope.  Princess,  that  there  will  be  no  need," 

458 


THE    WOOING    OF    PRINCESS    CAMILLA 

he  answered  seriously,  and,  saluting  once  more, 
turned  on  his  heel.  Stephanu  also  saluted  and 
turned,  and  the  pair,  falling  into  step,  went  from  us 
across  the  clearing. 

I  watched  them  till  their  forms  disappeared  in  the 
undergrowth,  and  turned  to  my  bride. 

"  And  now,  Princess,  I  believe  you  have  something 
to  say  to  me.  Shall  it  be  here  ?  I  will  not  suggest 
the  cottage,  which  is  overfull  maybe  of  unpleasant 
reminders;  but  here  is  a  tree-trunk,  if  you  will  be 
seated." 

"  That  shall  be  as  my  lord  chooses." 

I  laughed.  "  Your  lord  chooses,  then,  that  you 
take  a  seat.  It  seems  (I  take  your  word  for  it)  that 
there  must  be  hard  thoughts  between  us.  Well,  a 
straight  quarrel  is  soonest  ended,  they  say:  let  us 
have  them  out  and  get  them  over." 

"Ah,  you  hurt!  Is  it  necessary  that  you  hurt 
so  ?  "  Her  eyes  no  less  than  her  voice  sobered  me  at 
once,  shuddering  together  as  though  my  laugh  had 
driven  home  a  sword  and  it  grated  on  the  bone.  I 
remembered  that  she  always  winced  at  laughter,  but 
this  evident  anguish  puzzled  me. 

"  God  knows,"  said  I,  "  how  I  am  hurting  you. 
But  pardon  me ;  speak  what  you  have  to  speak ;  and 
I  will  be  patient  while  I  learn." 

"  '  A  lifetime  of  dishonour  '  you  said,  and  yet  you 

459 


Sm    JOHN    constats' TIXE 

laugh.  ...  A  lifetime  of  dishonour,  and  you  were 
blithe  to  he  shot  and  escape  it;  yet  now  you  laugh. 
Ah,  I  cannot  understand !  " 

"  Princess !  "  I  protested,  although  not  even  now 
did  I  grasp  what  meaning  she  had  misread  into  my 
words. 

"  But  you  said  rightly.  It  is  a  lifetime  of  dis- 
honour you  have  suffered  them  to  put  on  you:  and 
I — I  have  taken  more  than  life  from  you,  cavalier — 
yet  I  cannot  grieve  it  while  you  laugh.  O  sir,  do  not 
take  from  me  my  last  help,  which  is  to  honour  you !  " 

"  Listen  to  me.  Princess,"  said  I,  stepping  close 
and  standing  over  her.  "  What  do  you  suppose  that 
I  meant  by  using  those  words? — your  own  words, 
remember." 

"  That  is  better.  It  will  help  us  both  if  we  are 
frank — onlv  do  not  treat  me  as  a  child.  You  heard 
what  my  brother  said.  Yes,  and  doubtless  you  have 
heard  other  things  to  my  shame.  .  .  .  Answer  me." 

"  If  your  brother  chose  to  utter  slanders " 

"  Yes,  yes ;  it  was  easy  to  catch  him  by  the  throat. 
That  is  how  one  man  treats  another  who  calls  a 
woman  vile  in  her  presence.  It  does  not  mean  that 
he  disbelieves,  and  therefore  is  worthless:  but  a  gal- 
lant man  will  act  so,  almost  without  a  second  thought, 
and  because  it  is  dans  les  formes^  She  paused.  "  I 
learned  that  phrase  in  Brussels,  cavalier." 

460 


THE    WOOING    OF    PRINCESS    CAMILLA 

I  made  no  answer. 

— "  In  Brussels,  cavalier,"  she  repeated,  "  where 
it  was  often  in  the  mouths  of  very  vile  persons.  You 
have  heard,  perhaps,  that  we — that  my  brother  and 
I — lived  our  childhood  in  Brussels  ?  " 

I  bent  my  head,  without  answering,  but  still  she 
persisted.  "  I  was  brought  to  Corsica  from  Brussels, 
cavalier.  Marc'antonio  and  Stephanu  fetched  us 
thence,  being  guided  by  that  priest  who  is  now  my 
brother's  confessor." 

"  I  have  been  told  so,  Princess.  Marc'antonio  told 
me." 

"  Did  he  also  tell  you  where  he  found  me  ?  " 

"  No,  Princess." 

"  Did  he  tell  you  that,  being  fetched  hither,  I  was 
offered  by  my  brother  in  marriage  to  a  young  Count 
Odo  of  the  Rocca  Serra,  and  that  the  poor  boy  slew 
himself  with  his  own  gun  ?  " 

I  stuffed  my  hands  deep  in  my  pockets,  and  said 
I,  standing  over  her,  "  All  this  has  been  told  me, 
Princess,  though  not  the  precise  reason  for  it:  and 
since  you  desire  me  to  be  frank  I  will  tell  you  that 
I  have  given  some  thought  to  that  dead  lad — that 
rival  of  mine  (if  you  wall  permit  the  word)  whom  I 
never  knew.  The  mystery  of  his  death  is  a  mystery 
to  me  still :  but  in  all  my  blind  guesses  this  somehow 
remained  clear  to  me,  that  he  had  loved  you,  Priu- 

4G1 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

cess:  and  this  (again  I  ask  your  leave  to  say  it),  be- 
cause I  could  understand  it  so  well,  forbade  me  to 
think  unkindly  of  him." 

"  He  loved  his  honour  better,  sir."  Her  face  had 
flushed  darkly. 

"  I  am  sorry,  then,  if  I  must  suffer  by  comparison." 

"  No,  no,"  she  protested.  "  Oh,  why  will  you  twist 
my  words  and  force  me  to  seem  ungrateful  ?  He  died 
rather  than  have  me  to  wife:  you  took  me  on  the 
terms  that  within  a  few  minutes  you  must  die.  For 
both  of  you  the  remedy  was  at  hand,  only  you  chose 
to  save  me  before  taking  it.  On  my  knees,  sir,  I 
could  thank  you  for  that.  The  crueller  were  they 
that,  when  you  stood  up  claiming  your  right  to  die, 
they  broke  the  bargain  and  cheated  you." 

"  Princess,"  I  said  after  musing  a  moment,  "  if 
my  surviving  seemed  to  you  so  pitiable,  there  was  an- 
other way."    I  pointed  to  her  musket. 

"  Yes,  cavalier,  and  I  will  confess  to  you  that 
when,  having  fired  wide,  they  turned  to  go  and  the 
cheat  was  evident,  twice  before  you  pulled  the  band- 
age away  I  had  lifted  my  gun.  But  I  could  not  fire 
it,  cavalier.  To  make  me  your  executioner!  .  .  . 
and  while  you  thought  so  vilely  of  me.  .  .  ." 

"  Faith,"  said  I  grimly,  "  it  was  asking  too  much, 
even  for  a  Genoese !  Yet  again  I  think  you  overrate 
their  little  trick,  since  after  all  " — I  touched  my  own 

462 


THE    WOOING    OF    PRIXCESS    CAMILLA 

gimstock — "  there  remains  a  third  way — the  way 
chosen  by  young  Odo  of  Rocca  Serra," 

She  put  out  a  hand.  "  Sir,  that  way  you  need  not 
take — if  you  will  be  patient  and  hear  me !  " 

"  Lady,"  said  I,  "  you  may  hastily  despise  me,  but 
I  am  neither  going  to  take  that  way,  nor  to  be  patient, 
nor  to  hear  you.  But  I  am,  as  you  invited  me,  going 
to  be  very  frank  and  confess  to  you,  risking  your  con- 
tempt, that  I  am  extremely  thankful  the  Genoese  did 
not  shoot  me,  just  now.  Indeed,  I  do  not  remember 
in  all  my  life  to  have  felt  so  glad,  as  I  feel  just  now, 
to  be  alive.    Give  me  your  gun,  please." 

"  I  do  not  understand." 

"  No,  you  do  not  understand.  .  .  .  Your  gun, 
please  .  .  .  nay,  you  can  lay  it  on  the  turf  between 
us :  the  phial,  too,  that  you  offered  your  brother. 
Thank  you.  And  now,  my  wife,  let  us  talk  of  your 
country  and  mine — two  islands  which  appear  to  dif- 
fer more  than  I  had  guessed.  In  Corsica  it  would 
seem  that,  let  a  vile  thing  be  spoken  against  a  woman, 
it  suffices.  Belief  in  it  does  not  count :  it  suffices  that 
a  shadow  has  touched  her,  and  rather  than  share  that 
shadow,  men  will  kill  themselves — so  tender  a  plant 
is  their  honour.  Now  in  England,  O  Princess,  men 
are  perhaps  even  more  irrational.  They,  no  more 
than  your  Corsicans,  listen  to  the  evidence  and  ask 
themselves,  '  Is  this  good  evidence  or  bad  ?     Do  I 

4G3 


SIR    JOHN"    CONSTANTIXE 

believe  it  or  disbelieve  ? '  They  begin  farther  back, 
Princess — shall  I  tell  you  how  ?  They  look  in  the 
face  of  their  beloved  and  they  say,  '  Slander  this 
only  as  you  dare;  for  here  my  belief  is  fixed  before- 
hand.' " 

"  And  therefore,  O  Princess,"  I  went  on  after  a 
pause  in  which  we  eyed  one  another  slowly,  "  there- 
fore, I  disbelieve  any  slander  concerning  you ;  not 
merely  because  your  brother's  confessor  w^as  its  au- 
thor— though  this  to  any  rational  man  should  be 
enough — but  because  I  have  looked  in  your  face. 
Therefore  also  I — I,  your  husband — forbid  you  to 
speak  what  would  dishonour  us  both." 

"  But,  cavalier — if — if  it  were  true  ?  " 

"  True  ?  " — I  let  out  a  harsh  laugh.  "  Take  up 
that  phial.  Hold  it  in  your  hand — so.  Xow  look 
me  in  the  face  and  drink — if  you  dare !  Look  me  in 
the  face,  read  how  I  trust  you,  and  so,  if  you  can 
say  the  lie  to  me,  say  it — and  drink !  " 

She  lifted  the  phial  steadily,  almost  to  her  lips, 
keeping  her  eyes  on  mine — but  of  a  sudden  faltered 
and  let  it  fall  upon  the  turf;  where  I,  whose  heart 
had  all  but  stood  still,  crushed  my  heel  upon  it 
savagely. 

"  I  cannot.     You  have  conquered,"  she  gasped. 

"  Conquered  ?  "  I  swore  a  bitter  oath.  "  O  Prin- 
cess, think  you  this  is  the  way  I  promised  to  conquer 

4G4 


THE    WOOING    OF    PRINCESS    CAMILLA 

you  ?     Take  up  your  gun  again  and  follow  me.   .  ,  . 
Eh  ?    You  do  not  ask  where  I  lead  ?  " 

"  It  is  enough  that  I  follow  you,  my  husband," 
she  said,  slowly,  humbly. 

"  It  is  something,  indeed :  but  before  God  it  is  not 
enough,  not  half  enough.  I  see  now  that  '  enough  ' 
may  never  come :  almost  I  doubt  if  I,  who  swore  to 
you  it  should  come,  and  since  have  desired  it  madly, 
desire  it  any  longer;  and  until  it  comes  you  are  still 
the  winner,  '  Enough  '  shall  be  said,  Princess — for 
my  price  rises — not  when  (as  I  promised)  you  come 
to  me  without  choosing  to  be  loved  or  hated,  only 
beseeching  your  master,  but  \vhen  you  shall  come  to 
me  having  made  your  choice.  .  .  .  But  so  far,  so 
good,"  said  I  cheerfully,  changing  my  tone.  '*  You 
do  not  ask  where  I  lead.  I  am  leading  you,  if  I  can, 
to  Cape  Corso,  to  my  father;  and  by  his  means,  if 
they  serve,  to  your  mother." 

"  I  thank  you,  cavalier,"  she  said,  still  in  her  re- 
strained voice.  "  You  are  a  good  man ;  and  for  that 
reason  I  am  sorry  you  will  not  listen  to  me — and 
understand." 

"  The  mountains  are  before  us,"  said  I,  shoulder- 
ing my  gun.  "  Listen,  Princess:  let  us  be  good  com- 
rades, us  two.  Let  us  forget  what  lies  at  the  end  of 
the  journey — the  convent  for  you,  maybe,  and  for 
me  at  least  the  parting.     ^ly  life  has  been  spared 

465 


SIR    JOHX    COXSTAXTIXE 

to-day  aud  I  tell  you  frankly,  1  am  glad  of  the  respite. 
For  you,  the  mountains  hold  no  slanders,  and  still 
less  shall  hold  any  evil.  Put  your  hand  in  mine  on 
the  compact,  and  we  will  both  step  it  bravely :  forget 
that  you  were  ever  a  Princess  or  I  a  promised  king 
of  this  Corsica.  O  beloved,  travel  this  land  which 
can  never  be  yours  or  mine,  and  let  it  be  ours  only 
for  a  while  as  we  journey." 

I  turned  and  led  the  way  up  the  path  between  the 
bushes,  not  staying  to  part  them  for  her:  and  she 
followed  my  stride  almost  at  a  run.  On  the  bare 
mountain  spur  above  the  high-road  she  overtook  and 
fell  into  pace  with  me;  and  so,  skirting  Xonza,  we 
breasted  the  long  slope  of  the  range. 


466 


CHAPTER    XXV 


MY    WEDDING    DAY 


Come,  my  beloved,  let  us  go  forth  into  the  field;  let  us  lodge  in 
the  villages.  Let  us  get  up  early  to  the  vineyards;  let  us  see 
whether  the  vine  hath  budded  and  the  tender  grape  appear. 

— The  Song  of  Songs. 

Ahead  of  us,  high  on  our  right,  rose  the  mountain 
ridges,  scarp  upon  scarp,  to  the  snowy  peak  of  Monte 
Stella;  low  on  our  left  lay  Nonza,  and  beyond  it  a 
sea  blue  as  a  sapphire,  scarcely  rippled,  void  of  life 
save  for  one  white  sail  far  away  on  the  south-west 
horizon — not  the  Gauntlet:  for,  distant  though  she 
was,  I  could  make  out  the  shape  of  her  canvas,  and 
it  was  square-cut. 

Nonza  itself  lay  in  the  shadow  of  the  shore  with 
the  early  light  shimmering  upon  its  citadel  and  upper 
works — a  fortress  to  all  appearance  asleep:  but  the 
Genoese  pickets  would  be  awake  and  guarding  the 
northward  road  for  at  least  a  league  beyond,  and  to 
avoid  them  we  must  cross  the  high  mountain  spurs, 
using  where  we  could  their  patches  of  forest  and  our 
best  speed  where  these  left  the  ridges  bare. 

The  wav  was  hard — harder  bv  far  than   I   had 

4G7 


SIE    JOHN    COXSTAXTIXE 

deemed  possible — and  kept  us  too  busy  for  talk.  Our 
silence  was  not  otherwise  constrained  at  all.  Passion 
fell  away  from  us  as  we  climbed;  fell  away  with  its 
strife,  its  confusion,  its  distempered  memories  of  the 
night  now  past,  and  was  left  with  the  vapours  of 
the  coast  where  the  malaria  brooded.  Through  the 
upper,  clearer  atmosphere  we  walked  as  gods  on  the 
roof  of  the  world,  saw  with  clear  eyes  and  knew  with 
mind  and  spirit  untroubled  by  self-sickness.  We 
were  silent,  having  fallen  into  an  accord  which  made 
speech  unnecessary.  Difficult  as  the  road  soon  be- 
came, and,  while  unknown  to  both  of  us,  more  diffi- 
cult to  me  because  of  my  inexperience,  we  chose 
without  hesitating,  almost  without  consulting,  each 
moment  bringing  decision,  and  with  decision,  its  own 
help.  Xow  it  was  I  who  steadied  her  leap  across  a 
chasm ;  now  came  her  turn  to  underprop  my  foothold 
till  I  reached  a  ledge  whence  I  could  reach  down  a 
hand  and  drag  her  up  to  me.  As  a  rule  I  may  call 
myself  a  blundering  climber,  my  build  being  too 
heavy;  but  I  made  no  mistake  that  day.  Once  only 
(as  I  remember)  she  spoke  to  me  in  the  course  of  a 
three  hours'  scramble,  and  then  as  a  comrade,  in  quiet 
approval  of  my  mountaineering.  We  had  come  to  a 
crag  over  which — with  no  word  said — I  had  lowered 
her  by  help  of  my  bandolier.  She  had  waited  at  the 
foot  while  I  followed  her  down  without  assistance, 

468 


jVIY  wedding  day 

traversing  on  the  way  an  outward-sloping  ledge  of 
smooth  rock  which  overhnng  a  precipice  and  a  sheer 
fall  of  at  least  three  hundred  feet.  The  ledge  had 
nowhere  a  notch  in  it  to  grip  the  boot-sole,  and  was 
moreover  slippery  with  the  green  ooze  of  a  mountain 
spring.  It  has  haunted  my  dreams  since  then ;  I 
would  not  essay  it  again  for  my  weight  in  money ; 
but  I  crossed  it  that  day,  so  to  speak,  with  my  hands 
in  my  pockets. 

The  most  curious  (you  might  call  it  the  most  un- 
canny) part  of  the  whole  adventure,  was  that  from 
time  to  time  we  came  out  of  these  breathless  scram- 
bles plump  upon  a  patch  of  cultivated  ground  and  a 
hill-farm  with  its  steading;  the  explanation  being 
that  these  farms  stand  each  at  the  head  of  its  own 
ravine,  and,  inaccessible  one  to  another,  have  com- 
munication with  the  world  only  by  the  tracks,  which 
lead  down  their  ravines.  Here,  three  thousand  feet 
and  more  above  the  sea — upon  which  we  looked  down 
between  cliff  and  woodland  as  through  a  funnel,  and 
upon  the  roofs  and  whitewashed  walls  of  fishing- 
villages  on  the  edge  of  the  blue — lived  slow,  sedate 
folks,  who  called  their  dogs  off  us  and  stared  upon 
us  as  portents  and  gave  us  goat's-milk  and  bread, 
refusing  the  coins  we  proffered.  The  inhabitants  of 
this  cape  (I  have  since  learned)  are  a  race  apart  in 
Corsica;  slow,  peaceable,  without  politics  and  almost 

469 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

(as  we  should  say)  without  patriotism.  We  came  to 
them  as  gods  from  the  heights,  and  they  received  and 
sped  us  as  gods.  They  were  too  slow  of  speech  to 
question  us,  or  even  to  express  their  astonishment. 

There  was  one  farm  with  a  stream  plunging  past 
it,  and,  by  the  house-wall,  a  locked  mill-wheel  (God 
knows  what  it  had  ever  ground),  and  by  the  door 
below  it  a  woman  seated  on  a  flight  of  steps  with  her 
bosom  half-covered  and  a  sucking-child  laid  asleep 
across  her  knees.  She  blinked  in  the  sunshine  as 
we  came  across  the  yard  to  her,  and  said  she : — 

"  Salutation,  O  strangers,  and  pardon  that  I  can- 
not rise :  but  the  little  one  is  sick  of  a  fever  and  I 
fear  to  stir  him,  for  he  makes  as  if  he  would  sleep. 
Nor  is  there  any  one  else  to  entertain  you,  since  my 
husband  has  gone  down  to  the  marina  to  fetch  the 
wise  woman  who  lives  there." 

The  Princess  stepped  close  and  stood  over  her. 
"  O  paesana,^'  said  she,  "  do  you  and  your  man  live 
here  alone,  so  far  up  the  mountain  ?  " 

"  There  is  the  hamhino,^^  said  the  mother  simply. 
"  He  is  my  first — and  a  boy,  by  the  gift  of  the  Holy 
Virgin.  Already  he  takes  notice,  and  soon  he  will 
be  learning  to  talk:  but  since  we  both  talk  to  him 
and  about  him,  you  may  say  that  already  there  are 
three  of  us,  and  anon  the  good  Lord  may  send  us 
others.     It  is  hard  work,  O  hella  donna,  on  such  a 

470 


MY    WEDDING    DAY 

farm  as  ours,  and  doubly  hard  on  my  husband  now 
for  these  months  that  I  have  been  able  to  help  him 
but  little.  But  with  a  good  man  and  his  child — if 
God  spare  the  child — I  shall  want  no  happiness." 

"  Give  me  the  child,"  said  the  Princess,  taking  a 
seat  on  the  stone  slab  beside  her.  "  He  shall  not 
hurt  with  me  while  you  fetch  us  a  draught  of  milk." 

The  woman  stared  at  her  and  at  me,  fearfully  at 
first,  then  with  a  strange  look  in  her  eyes,  between 
awe  and  disbelief  and  a  growing  hope. 

"  Even  when  you  came,"  she  said  hoarsely  after 
a  while,  "  I  was  praying  for  an  angel  to  help  my 
child.  .  .  .  O  blind,  O  hard  of  faith  that  I  am! 
And  when  I  lifted  my  eyes  and  saw  you,  I  bethought 
me  not  that  none  walk  this  mountain  by  the  path 
you  have  come,  nor  has  this  land  any  like  you  twain 
for  beauty  and  stature.  .  .  .  O  lady — whether  from 
heaven  or  earth — you  will  not  take  my  child  but  to 
cure  it  ?    He  is  my  only  one." 

"  Give  him  to  me." 

The  woman  laid  her  child  in  the  Princess's  arms 
and  ran  into  the  house,  throwing  one  look  of  terror 
back  at  us  from  the  doorstep.  The  Princess  sat  mo- 
tionless, gazing  down  on  the  closed  lids,  frowning, 
deep  in  thoughts  I  could  not  follow. 

"  You  will  not,"  said  I,  "  leave  this  good  foolish 
soul  in  her  error  ?  " 

471 


SIK    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

"  I  have  heard,"  she  answered  quietly,  without 
lifting  her  eyes,  "  that  a  royal  touch  has  virtue  to 
heal  sometimes — and  there  was  a  time  when  you 
claimed  to  be  King  of  Corsica.  J^ay,  forgive  me," 
she  took  herself  up  quickly,  "  there  is  bitterness  yet 
left  in  me,  but  that  speech  shall  be  the  last  of  it. 
.  .  .  O  husband,  O  my  friend,  I  was  thinking  that 
this  child  will  grow  into  a  man :  and  of  what  his 
mother  said,  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  a  good 
man:  and  I  am  trying  to  believe  her.  .  .  .  Eccul 
he  sleeps,  poor  mite !     Listen  to  his  breathing." 

The  farm-wife  came  out  with  a  full  bowl  of  milk. 
Her  hands  shook  and  spilled  some  as  she  handed  it 
to  me,  so  eager  were  they  to  hold  her  infant  again. 
Taking  it  and  feeling  the  damp  sweat  as  she  passed 
a  hand  over  its  brow,  she  broke  forth  into  blessings. 

We  told  her  of  her  mistake :  but  I  doubt  if  she 
heard.  "  I  have  dwelt  here  these  three  years,"  she 
persisted,  "  and  none  ever  walked  the  mountain  by 
the  path  you  have  come."  She  watched  us  as  I 
held  the  bowl  for  the  Princess  to  drink,  and  asked 
quaintly,  "  But  is  there  no  marrying  in  heaven  ?  I 
have  thought  upon  that  many  times  and  always  it 
puzzles  me." 

We  said  farewell  to  her  and  took  her  blessings 
with  us  as  she  watched  us  across  the  head  of  the 
ravine.     Then  followed  another  half-hour  of  silence 

472 


MY    WEDDING    DAY 

and  sharp  climbing:  but  the  worst  was  over,  and  by 
and  by  the  range  tailed  off  into  a  chain  of  lessening 
hills  over  which  in  the  purple  distance  rose  a  soli- 
tary sharp  cone  with  a  ruinous  castle  upon  it,  which 
(said  the  Princess)  was  Seneca's  Tower  at  the  head 
of  the  Vale  of  Luri. 

We  were  now  beyond  the  danger  of  the  Genoese, 
and  therefore  turned  aside  to  the  left  and  descended 
the  slopes  to  the  high-road,  along  which  we  made  good 
speed  until,  having  passed  the  tower  and  the  mouth 
of  the  gorge  which  leads  up  to  it  from  the  westward, 
we  came,  almost  at  nightfall,  w^ithin  sight  of  Pino 
by  the  sea. 

Here  I  proposed  that  I  should  go  forward  to  the 
village  and  find  a  night's  lodging  for  her,  pointing 
out  that,  the  night  being  warm  and  dry,  I  could  make 
my  couch  comfortably  enough  in  one  of  the  citron 
orchards  that  here  lined  the  road  on  the  landward 
side.  To  this  at  first  she  assented — it  seemed  to  me, 
even  eagerly.  But  I  had  scarcely  taken  forty  paces 
up  the  road  before  I  heard  her  voice  calling  me  back, 
and  back  I  went  obediently. 

"  O  husband,"  she  said,  "  the  dusk  has  fallen,  and 
now  in  the  dusk  I  can  say  a  word  I  have  been  long- 
ing all  day  to  be  free  of.  Nay  " — she  put  out  a 
hand — "  you  must  not  forbid  me :  you  must  not  even 
delay  me  now." 

473 


SIK    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

"  What  is  it,  that  I  should  forbid  you  ?  " 

"  It  is — about  Brussels." 

I  dropped  my  hand  impatiently  and  was  turning 
away,  but  she  touched  my  arm  and  the  touch  pleaded 
with  me  to  face  her. 

"  I  have  a  right.  .  .  .  Yes,  it  was  good  of  you  to 
refuse  it;  but  you  cannot  go  on  refusing,  because — 
see  you — your  goodness  makes  my  right  the  stronger. 
This  morning  I  could  have  told  you,  but  you  refused 
me.     All  this  day  I  have  known  that  refusal  unjust." 

"  All  this  day  ?  Then — pardon,  Princess — but 
why  should  I  hear  you  now,  at  this  moment  ?  " 

"  The  daylight  is  past,"  she  said  simply.  "  You 
can  listen  now  and  not  see  my  face." 

On  the  hedge  of  the  ditch  beside  the  high-road  lay 
a  rough  fragment  of  granite,  a  stone  cracked  and  dis- 
carded, once  the  base  of  an  olive-mill.  She  found  a 
seat  upon  it  and  motioned  to  me  to  come  close,  and 
I  stood  close,  staring  down  on  her  while  she  stared 
down  at  her  feet,  grey  with  dust  almost  as  the  road 
itself. 

"  We  were  children,  Camillo  and  I,"  she  said  at 
length,  "  in  keep  of  an  ill  woman  we  called  Maman 
Trebuchet,  and  in  a  house  near  the  entrance  of  a 
court  leading  off  the  Rue  de  la  Madeleine  and  close 
beside  the  market.  How  we  had  come  there  we 
never    inquired.   ...  I    suppose    all    children    take 

47-i 


MY    WEDDING    DxVY 

such  things  as  they  find  them.  The  house  was  of  five 
stories,  all  let  out  in  tenements,  and  we  inhabited 
two  rooms  on  the  fourth  floor  to  the  left  as  you  went 
up  the  staircase.  .  .  .  Some  of  the  men  quarrelled 
with  their  wives  and  beat  them.  There  was  always 
a  noise  of  quarrelling  somewhere  in  the  house :  but 
outside  before  the  front  door  the  men  who  were  not 
beating  their  women  would  sit  for  hours  together  and 
smoke  and  spit  and  tell  one  another  stories  against 
the  Church  and  against  women.  The  pavement 
where  they  sat  and  the  street  before  it  was  strewn 
always  with  rotting  odds  and  ends  of  vegetables,  for 
almost  every  one  in  that  quarter  earned  his  living  by 
the  ]\Iarket,  and  Maman  Trebuchet  among  the  rest. 
She  divided  her  time  between  walking  the  streets 
with  a  basket  and  drinking  the  profits  away  in  the 
cabarets,  and  in  the  intervals  she  cursed  and  beat 
us.  We  lived  for  the  most  part  on  the  refuse  she 
brought  home  at  night — on  so  much  of  her  stock  as 
had  found  no  purchaser,  and  we  played  about  the 
gutters  and  alleys  of  the  Market.  So  far  as  I  re- 
member we  were  neither  very  happy  nor  yet  very 
miserable.  We  knew  that  we  were  brother  and  sis- 
ter, and  that  Maman  Trebuchet  was  not  our  real 
mother.  Beyond  this  we  were  not  inquisitive,  but 
took  life  as  we  found  it. 

"  Nevertheless,  I  know  now  that  we  were  not  alto- 

475 


Sm    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

gether  lost,  but  that  eyes  in  Brussels  were  watching 
us — though  how  far  they  were  friendly  I  cannot  tell 
you.  I  think  sometimes  that  the  agents  of  the  Geno- 
ese, who  had  hidden  us  there,  must  have  been  play- 
ing their  own  game  as  well  as  their  masters'.  There 
was,  for  example,  a  dark  man  who  often  visited  the 
Market:  he  called  himself  a  lay-brother  and  seemed 
to  be  busy  with  religious  work  among  the  poor  of 
the  quarter.  We  knew  him  as  Maitre  Antoine  at 
first,  and  so  he  was  generally  called:  but  he  told  us 
that  his  real  name  was  Antonio — or  Antonin,  as  he 
spoke  it,  and  that  he  came  from  Italy.  He  took  a 
great  fancy  to  us  and  obtained  leave  of  Maman  Tre- 
buchet  to  teach  us  the  Scriptures :  but  what  he  really 
taught  us  was  to  speak  with  him  in  Italian.  We  did 
not  know  at  the  time  that,  though  he  called  it  Tus- 
can, he  was  all  the  while  teaching  us  our  own  Cor- 
sican.  Nor,  I  believe,  did  our  guardian  know  this 
— but  one  day,  finding  out  by  chance  that  we  knew 
Italian  (for  we  had  begun  to  talk  it  together,  that 
she  might  not  understand  what  we  said)  and  discov- 
ering how  we  had  picked  it  up,  she  flew  into  a  dread- 
ful rage,  lay  in  wait  next  day  to  catch  Maitre  An- 
toine as  he  came  up  the  stairs,  and  fell  upon  him 
with  such  fury  that  the  poor  man  fled  out  of  the 
house  and  we  never  saw  him  again. 

"  After  this — I  believe  about  a  year  later — there 

476 


MY    WEDDING    DAY 

came  a  day  when  she  bought  a  new  cap  and  shawl 
for  herself  and  new  clothes  for  us,  and,  having  seen 
that  we  were  thoroughly  washed,  took  us  up  the  hill 
to  a  fine  street  near  the  palace,  and  to  a  hotel  which 
was  almost  the  grandest  house  in  the  street.  We 
entered,  and  were  led  into  the  presence  of  a  very 
noble-looking  gentleman  in  a  long  yellow  dressing- 
gown,  who  blessed  us  and  gave  us  a  kiss  apiece,  and 
some  gold  money,  and  afterwards  poured  out  wine 
for  Maman  Trebuchet  and  thanked  her  for  taking 
such  good  care  of  us." 

"  That  was  your  father.  Princess." 

"  I  have  often  thought  so.  But  remember  noth- 
ing of  his  face  except  that  he  had  tears  in  his  eyes 
when  we  said  good-bye  to  him ;  at  which  I  wondered 
a  great  deal,  for  I  had  never  seen  a  man  crying. 
When  we  were  outside  again  in  the  street  Maman 
Trebuchet  took  the  gold  away  from  us.  I  think  she 
too  must  have  received  money:  for  from  that  day 
she  neglected  her  marketing  and  drank  more  heavily 
than  before.     About  a  month  later  she  was  dead. 

"  On  the  day  of  the  funeral  there  came  to  our 
house  a  man  dressed  like  a  gentleman — yet  I  believe 
rather  that  he  must  have  been  some  kind  of  courier 
or  valet.  He  spoke  to  us  very  kindly,  and  said  that 
we  had  friends,  who  had  sent  him  to  us ;  that  when 
we  grew  up  we  should  not  want  for  money ;  but  that 

477 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

just  now  it  was  most  important  we  should  be  put  to 
school  and  made  fit  for  our  proper  position  in  life. 
We  must  make  up  our  minds  to  be  separated,  he 
said — and  at  this  we  both  wept — but  we  should  see 
one  another  often.  For  Camillo  he  had  found  lodg- 
ings with  an  excellent  tutor,  in  whose  care,  after  a 
year's  study,  he  was  to  travel  abroad  and  see  the 
world :  while  for  me  he  had  chosen  a  home  with  some 
discreet  ladies  who  would  attend  to  my  schooling. 

"  The  house  was  in  the  Rue  de  Luxembourg — a 
corner  house,  where  the  street  is  joined  by  a  lane 
running  from  the  Place  du  Paivis.  He  led  me  to 
it  that  same  evening,  and  Camillo  came  too,  to  make 
sure  that  I  was  comfortable.  It  was  a  strange  house 
and  full  of  ladies,  the  most  of  them  young  and  all 
very  handsomely  dressed.  But  for  their  dresses  I 
could  almost  have  fancied  it  some  kind  of  con- 
vent. At  all  events,  they  received  me  kindly,  and 
many  of  them  wept  when  they  saw  my  parting  with 
Camillo." 

Here  the  Princess  paused,  and  sat  silent  for  so 
long  that  I  bent  forward  in  the  dusk  to  read  her 
face.  She  drew  away,  shivering,  and  put  up  both 
hands  as  if  to  cover  it. 

"Well,  Princess?" 

"That  house,  cavalier!  .  .  .  that  horrible  house! 
.  .  .  Ah,    remember   that   I   was   a   child,    scarcely 

478 


MY   WEDDIXG    DAY 

twelve  years  old — I  had  heard  vile  words  among  the 
market  folk,  but  they  were  words  and  meant  noth- 
ing to  me:  and  now  I  saw  things  which  I  did  not 
understand  and — and  I  became  used  to  them  before 
ever  guessing  that  these  were  the  things  those  vile 
words  had  meant.  The  women  were  pretty,  you  see 
.  .  .  and  merry,  and  kind  to  me  at  first.  Before 
God  I  never  dreamed  that  I  was  looking  on  harm — 
not  at  first — but  afterwards,  when  it  was  too  late. 
The  people  who  had  put  me  there  ceased  to  send 
money,  and,  being  a  strong  child  and  willing  to  work, 
at  first  I  was  put  to  make  the  women  their  choco- 
late, and  carry  it  up  to  them  of  a  morning,  and  so, 
little  by  little,  I  came  to  be  their  house-drudge.  I 
had  lost  all  news  of  Camillo.  For  hours  I  had 
hunted  through  the  streets  of  Brussels,  if  by  chance 
I  might  get  sight  of  him  .  .  .  but  he  was  lost.  And 
I — O  cavalier,  have  pity  on  me!  " 

"  Wife,"  said  I,  standing  before  her,  "  why  have 
you  told  me  this  ?  Did  I  not  say  to  you  that  I  have 
seen  your  face  and  believe,  and  no  story  shall  shake 
my  belief?  .  .  .  Nay,  then,  I  am  glad — yes,  glad. 
Dear  enough,  God  knows,  you  would  have  been  to 
me  had  I  met  you,  a  child  among  these  hills  and 
ignorant  as  a  child  of  evil.  How  much  dearer  you, 
who  have  trodden  the  hot  ploughshares  and  come  to 
me  through  the  fires!  .  .  .   See  now,  I  could  kneel 

479 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

to  you,  O  queen,  for  shame  at  the  little  I  have  de- 
served." 

But  she  put  out  a  hand  to  check  me.  "  O  friend," 
she  said  sadly,  "  will  you  never  understand  ?  For 
the  great  faith  you  pay  me  I  shall  go  thankfully  all 
my  days:  but  the  faith  that  should  answer  it  I  can- 
not give  you.  .  .  .  Ah,  there  lies  the  cruelty!  You 
are  able  to  trust,  and  I  can  never  trust  in  return. 
You  can  believe,  but  I  cannot  believe.  I  have  seen 
all  men  so  vile  that  the  root  of  faith  is  withered  in 
me.  .  .  .  Sir,  believe,  that  though  everything  that 
makes  me  will  to  thank  you  must  make  me  seem  the 
more  ungrateful,  yet  I  honour  you  too  much  to  give 
you  less  than  an  equal  faith.  I  am  your  slave,  if 
you  command.  But  if  you  ask  what  only  can  honour 
us  two  as  man  and  wife,  you  lose  all,  and  I  am  for 
ever  degraded." 

I  stepped  back  a  pace.  "  O  Princess,"  I  said 
slowly,  "  I  shall  never  claim  your  faith  until  you 
bring  it  to  me  humbly,  with  a  straight  brow  and 
truth  on  your  lips.  Let  this  account  be  closed  be- 
tween us  until  you  come  to  me — as  in  the  end  you 
shall — asking  to  reopen  it.  That  was  the  challenge 
I  flung  to  you,  long  ago,  over  my  friend's  grave.  .  .  . 
And  now,  let  all  this  rest  for  a  while.  Take  up  your 
story  again  and  tell  me  the  story  to  the  end." 

So  in  the  darkness,  seated  there  upon  the  mill- 

480 


MY    WEDDING    DAY 

stone  with  her  gun  across  her  knees,  she  told  me  all 
the  story,  very  quietly: — How  at  the  last  she  had 
been  found  in  the  house  in  Brussels  by  Marc'antonio 
and  Stephanu  and  fetched  home  to  the  island;  how 
she  had  found  there  her  brother  Caraillo  in  charge 
of  Fra  Domenico,  his  tutor  and  confessor ;  with 
what  kindness  the  priest  had  received  her,  how  he 
had  confessed  her  and  assured  her  that  the  book  of 
those  horrible  rears  was  closed :  and  how,  neverthe- 

V  7  7 

less,  the  story  had  crept  out,  poisoning  the  people's 
loyalty  and  her  brother's  chances. 

I  heard  her  to  the  end,  or  almost  to  the  end:  for 
while  she  drew  near  to  conclude,  and  while  I  stood 
grinding  my  teeth  upon  the  certainty  that  all  this 
plot — from  the  kidnapping  straight  down  to  the 
spreading  of  the  slanders — had  been  Master  Domeni- 
co's  work,  and  his  only,  the  air  thudded  with  a  dis- 
tant dull  concussion  at  which,  breaking  off  her  nar- 
rative, she  lifted  her  head  to  listen. 

"  It  is  the  sound  of  guns,"  said  I,  listening  too, 
while  half  a  dozen  similar  concussions  followed. 
"  Heavy  artillery,  too,  and  from  the  southward." 

"  !N"ay ;  but  what  light  is  that,  yonder,  to  the 
north  ?  " 

She  pointed  iuto  the  night  behind  mo,  and  I  turned 
to  see  a  faint  glow  spreading  along  the  northern  hori- 
zon, and  mounting,  and  reddening  as  it  mounted  until 

481 


SIK    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

the  black  hills  between  us  and  Cape  Corso  stood  up 
against  it  in  sharp  outline. 

"  O  wife,"  said  I,  "  since  you  must  be  weary, 
sleep,  if  you  will,  for  a  while,  and  I  will  keep  watch : 
but  wake  soon,  for  yonder  is  something  worth  your 
seeing." 

"  Whose  work  is  it,  think  you  ?  " 

"  The  work,"  said  I,  "  of  a  man  who  would  set 
the  whole  world  on  fire,  and  only  for  love." 


482 


CHAPTER    XXVI 

THE    FLAME    AND    THE    ALTAJB 

And  when  he  saw  the  statly  towre 

Shining  baith  clere  and  bricht, 
Whilk  stood  abune  the  jawing  wave, 

Built  on  a  rock  of  height, 

Says,  Row  the  boat,  my  mariners. 

And  bring  me  to  the  land, 
For  yonder  I  see  my  love's  castle 

Close  by  the  saut  sea  strand. — Rough  Royal. 

As  'twixt  two  equal  armies  Fate 

Suspends  uncertain  victory, 
Our  souls^which  to  advance  our  state 

Were  gone  out — hung  'twixt  her  and  me: 

And  whilst  our  souls  negotiate  there. 

We  like  sepulchral  statues  lay; 
All  day  the  same  our  postures  were. 

And  we  said  nothing,  all  the  day. 

— Donne,  The  Ecstasie. 

She  rose  from  the  stone  willingly  enough,  but 
swayed  a  little,  finding  her  feet ;  and  the  faint  light, 
as  she  turned  her  face  to  it,  showed  me  that  she  was 
weary  almost  to  fainting.  In  short  she  had  come  to 
a  pass  where  the  more  haste  would  certainly  make 
the  worse  speed. 

483 


SIR    JOHK    CONSTAT  TIXE 

"  It  is  not  spirit  you  lack,  but  sleep,"  said  I,  and 
she  confessed  that  it  was  so.  An  hour's  rest  would 
uecover  her,  she  said,  and  obediently  lay  down  where 
I  found  a  couch  for  her  on  a  bank  of  sweet-smelling 
heath  above  the  road.  I  too  wanted  rest,  and  settled 
myself  down  with  my  back  against  a  citron-tree  some 
twenty  paces  distant. 

Chaucer  says  somewhere  (and  it  is  true),  that 
women  take  less  sleep  and  take  it  more  lightly  than 
men.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  had  scarcely  closed 
my  eyes  before  I  opened  them  again  at  a  touch  on 
my  shoulder.  The  night  was  yet  dark  around  us, 
save  for  the  glow  to  the  northward,  and  at  first  I 
would  hardly  believe  when  the  Princess  told  me  that 
I  had  been  sleeping  near  upon  three  hours.  Then 
it  occurred  to  me  that  for  a  long  while  the  sky  over- 
head had  been  shaking  and  repeating  the  boom  of 
cannon. 

"  There  is  firing  to  the  south  of  us,"  she  said ; 
"  and  heavier  firing  than  where  the  light  is.  It 
comes  from  Xonza  or  thereabouts." 

"  Then  it  is  no  affair  of  ours,  even  if  we  could 
reach  it.  But  the  flame  yonder  will  lead  us  to  my 
father  and  (I  trust)  to  the  Queen  Emilia." 

So  we  took  the  white,  glimmering  high-road  again 
and  stepped  out  briskly,  refreshed  by  sleep  and  the 
cool  night  air  that  went  with  us,  blowing  softly  across 

484 


THE    FLAME    AND    THE    ALTAll 

the  ridges  on  our  right.  We  found  a  track  that 
skirted  the  village  of  Pino,  leading  us  wide  among 
orchards  of  citron  and  olive,  and  had  scarcely  re- 
gained the  road  before  the  guns  to  the  south  ceased 
firing.  Also  the  red  glow,  though  it  still  suffused 
the  north,  began  to  fade  as  we  neared  it  and  climbed 
the  last  of  steep  hills  that  run  out  to  the  extremity 
of  the  Cape.  There  upon  the  summit  suddenly  we 
came  to  a  stand  and  caught  our  breath. 

The  sea  lav  at  our  feet,  and  down  across  its  black 
floor  to  the  base  of  the  cliff  on  which  we  stood  ran  a 
broad  ribbon  of  light.  It  shone  from  a  rock  less  than 
half  a  league  distant :  and  on  that  rock  stood  a  castle 
which  was  a  furnace — its  walls  black  as  the  bars  of 
a  grate,  its  windows  aglow  with  contained  fire.  For 
the  moment  it  seemed  that  this  fire  filled  the  whole 
pile  of  masonry :  but  presently,  while  we  stood  and 
stared,  a  sudden  flame,  shooting  high  from  the  walls, 
lit  up  the  front  of  a  tall  tower  above  them,  with  a 
line  of  battlements  at  its  base  and  on  the  battlements 
a  range  of  roofs  yet  intact.  As  though  a  slide  had 
been  opened  and  as  rapidly  shut  again,  this  vision 
of  tower,  roofs,  battlements  gleamed  for  a  second  and 
vanished  as  the  flame  sank  and  a  cloud  of  smoke  and 
sparks  rolled  up  in  its  place  and  drifted  heavily  to 
leeward. 

With  a  light  touch  on  the  Princess's  arm  I  bade 

485 


SIK    JOHX    CONSTANTIXE 

her  follow  me,  and  we  raced  together  down  the  slope. 
At  the  foot  of  it  we  plunged  into  a  grove  of  olives 
and  through  it,  as  through  a  screen,  emerged  upon 
the  street  of  a  little  marina — two  dozen  fisher-hut8, 
huddled  close  above  the  foreshore,  and  tenantless — 
for  their  inhabitants  were  gathered  all  on  the  beach 
and  staring  at  the  blaze. 

I  have  said  that  the  folk  at  Cape  Corso  are  a  race 
apart:  and  surely  there  never  was  a  stranger  crowd 
than  that  in  which,  two  minutes  later,  we  found  our- 
selves mingling  unchallenged.  They  accepted  us, 
maybe,  as  a  minor  miracle  of  the  night.  They  gazed 
at  us  curiously  there  in  the  light  of  the  conflagration, 
and  from  us  away  to  the  burning  island,  and  talked 
together  in  whispers,  in  a  patois  of  which  I  caught 
but  one  word  in  three.  They  asked  me  no  ques- 
tions. Their  voices  filled  the  beach  with  a  kind  of 
subdued  murmuring,  all  alike  gentle  and  patiently 
explanatory. 

"  It  is  the  island  of  Giraglia,"  said  one  to  me. 
"  Yes,  yes ;  this  will  be  the  work  of  the  patriots — a 
brave  feat  too,  there's  no  denying." 

I  pointed  to  a  line  of  fishing-boats  moored  a  short 
furlong  oif  the  shore  in  the  shoal  water. 

"  If  you  own  one,"  said  I,  "  give  me  leave  to  hire 
her  from  you,  and  name  your  price." 

"  Perche,  perche?" 

486 


THE  FLAME  AND  THE  ALTAR 

"  I  wish  to  sail  her  to  the  island." 

"  O  galanVuomo,  but  why  should  any  one  desire 
to  sail  to  the  island  to-night  of  all  nights,  seeing  that 
to-night  they  have  set  it  on  fire  ?  " 

I  stared  at  his  simplicity.  "  You  are  not  patriots, 
it  seems,  at  this  end  of  the  Cape  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head  gravely.  "  The  Genoese  on  the 
island  are  our  customers,  and  buy  our  fish.  Why 
should  men  quarrel  ?  " 

"  If  it  come  to  commerce,  then,  will  you  sell  me 
your  boat  ?  The  price  of  her  should  be  worth  many 
a  day's  barter  of  fish." 

He  shook  his  head  again,  but  turned  and  called 
his  neighbours  to  him,  men  and  women,  and  they 
began  to  discuss  my  offer,  all  muttering  together, 
their  voices  mingling  confusedly  as  in  a  dream. 

By  and  by  the  man  turned  to  me.  "  The  price  is 
thirty-five  livres,  signore,  on  deposit,  for  which  you 
may  choose  any  boat  you  will.  We  are  peaceable 
folk  and  care  not  to  meddle;  but  the  half  shall  be 
refunded  if  you  bring  her  back  safe  and  sound." 

"  Fetch  me  a  shore-boat,  then,"  said  I,  while  they 
counted  my  money,  having  fetched  a  lantern  for  the 
purpose. 

But  it  appeared  that  shore-boat  there  was  none.  I 
learned  later  that  my  father  and  Captain  Pomery, 
acting  on  his  behalf,  had  hired  all  the  shore-boats 

487 


SIK    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

at  these  marinas  (of  which  there  are  three  hard  by 
the  extremity  of  the  Cape)  for  use  in  the  night  attack 
upon  the  island. 

"  Hold  you  my  gun,  then,  Princess,"  said  I, 
"  while  I  swim  out  to  the  nearest  " :  and,  wading  out 
till  the  dark  water  reached  to  my  breast,  I  chose  out 
my  boat,  swam  to  her — it  was  but  a  few  strokes — 
clambered  on  board,  caught  up  a  sweep,  and  worked 
her  back  to  the  beach.  The  Princess,  holding  our 
two  guns  high,  waded  out  to  me  and  I  lifted  her  on 
board. 

We  heard  the  voices  of  the  villagers  murmuring 
behind  us  while  I  hoisted  the  little  sprit-sail  and  drew 
the  sheet  home.  The  night-breeze  fluking  among  the 
gullies,  filled  the  sail  at  once,  fell  light  again  and 
left  it  flapping,  then  drew  a  steady  breath  aft,  and 
the  voices  were  lost  in  the  hiss  of  water  under  the 
boat's  stern. 

But  not  until  we  had  passed  the  extreme  point  of 
land  did  we  find  the  true  breeze,  which  there  headed 
us  lightly,  blowing  (as  nearly  as  I  can  guess)  from 
K.N.E.,  yet  allowed  us  a  fair  course,  so  that  by 
hauling  the  sheet  close  I  could  point  well  to  wind- 
ward of  the  fiery  reflection  on  the  water  and  fetch 
the  island  on  a  single  tack.  It  was  here,  as  we  ran 
out  of  the  loom  of  the  land,  that  the  waning  moon 
lifted  her  rim  over  the  hills  astern ;  and  it  was  here, 

4.88 


THE  FLAME  AND  THE  ALTAR 

as  we  cleared  the  point,  that  her  rajs,  traversing  the 
misty  sea  between  us  and  Elba,  touched  the  grey- 
white  canvas  of  a  vessel  jeeling  along  (as  we  say  at 
the  fishing  in  Cornwall)  and  holding  herself  to  wind- 
ward for  a  straight  run  down  upon  the  island — a 
vessel  which  at  first  glance  I  recognised  for  the 
Gauntlet. 

Plainly  she  was  standing  by  awaiting;  plainly 
then  her  crew — or  those  of  them  engaged  for  the 
assault — were  detained  yet  upon  the  island ;  whence 
(to  make  matters  surer),  there  sounded,  as  our  boat 
ran  up  to  it,  a  few  loose  dropping  shots  and  a  single 
cry — a  cry  that  travelled  across  to  us  down  the  lane 
of  light  directing  us  to  the  quay.  The  blaze  had  died 
down ;  the  upper  keep,  now  overhanging  us,  stood 
black  and  unlit  against  a  sky  almost  as  black ;  but  on 
a  stairway  at  the  base  of  it  torches  were  moving  and 
the  flame  of  them  shone  on  the  slippery  steps  of  a 
quay  to  which  I  guided  the  boat  and,  jamming  the 
helm  down  with  a  thrust  of  the  foot,  ran  forward 
and  lowered  sail. 

We  carried  more  way  than  I  had  reckoned  for, 
and — the  Princess  having  no  science  to  help  me — 
crashed  in  among  a  press  of  boats  huddled  in  the 
black  shadow  alongside  the  quay-steps,  and  with  such 
force  as  almost  to  stave  in  the  upper  timbers  of  a 
couple  and  sink  them  where  they  lay.    No  voice  chal- 

4S9 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

lenged  us.  I  wondered  at  this  as  I  gripped  at  the 
dark,  dew-drenched  canvas  to  haul  it  inboard,  and 
while  I  wondered,  a  strong  light  shone  down  upon 
us  from  the  quay's  edge. 

A  man  stood  there,  holding  a  torch  high  over  his 
head  and  shading  his  eyes  as  he  peered  down  at  the 
boat — a  tall  man  in  a  Trappist  habit  girt  high  on 
his  naked  legs  almost  to  the  knees. 

"  My  father  ?  "  I  demanded.  "  Where  is  ray 
father  ?  " 

He  made  no  answer,  but  signed  to  us  to  make  our 
landing,  and  waited  for  us,  still  holding  the  torch 
high  while  I  helped  the  Princess  from  one  boat  to 
another  and  so  to  the  slippery  steps. 

"  My  father  ?  "  I  demanded  again. 

He  turned  and  led  us  along  the  quay  to  a  stair- 
way cut  in  the  living  rock.  At  the  foot  of  it  he 
lowered  his  torch  for  a  moment  that  we  might  see 
and  step  aside.  Two  bodies  lay  there — two  of  his 
brethren,  stretched  side  by  side  and  disposedly,  with 
arms  crossed  on  their  breasts,  ready  for  burial.  High 
on  the  stairway,  where  it  entered  the  base  of  a  battle- 
mented  wall  under  an  arch  of  heavy  stonework,  a 
solitary  monk  was  drawing  water  from  a  well  and 
sluicing  down  the  steps.  The  water  ran  past  our 
feet,  and  in  the  dawn  now  paling  about  us  I  saw  its 
colour.  ... 

490 


THE  FLAME  AND  THE  ALTAR 

The  burnt  building — it  had  been  the  Genoese  bar- 
racks— stood  high  on  the  right  of  the  stairway.  Its 
roof  had  fallen  in  upon  the  flames  raging  through 
its  wooden  floors,  so  that  what  had  been  but  an  hour 
ago  a  blazing  furnace  was  now  a  cold  shell  of  masonry 
out  of  which  a  cloud  of  smoke  rolled  lazily  and  hung 
about  the  upper  walls  of  the  fortress.  Through  its 
window-spaces,  void  and  fire-smirched,  as  now  and 
again  the  reek  lifted  I  saw  the  pale  upper  sky  with 
half  a  dozen  charred  ends  of  roof-timber  sharply  de- 
fined against  it — a  black  and  broken  grid ;  and  while 
yet  I  stared  upward  another  pair  of  monks  crossed 
the  platform  above  the  archway.  They  carried  a 
body  between  them — the  body  of  a  man  in  the  Geno- 
ese uniform — and  were  bearing  it  towards  a  bastion 
on  the  western  side,  that  overhung  the  sea.  There 
the  battlements  hid  them  from  me ;  but  by  and  by  I 
heard  a  splash.  .  .  . 

By  this  time  we  were  mounting  the  stairway.  We 
passed  under  the  arch — where  a  door  shattered  and 
wrenched  from  its  upper  hinge  lay  askew  against  the 
wall — and  climbed  to  the  platform.  From  this  an- 
other flight  of  steps  (but  these  were  of  worked  gran- 
ite) led  straight  as  a  ladder  to  a  smaller  platform  at 
the  foot  of  the  keep;  and  high  upon  these  stood  my 
uncle  Gervase  directing  half  a  score  of  monks  to 
right  an  overturned  cannon. 

491 


SIR    JOHN"    CONSTAXTIXE 

His  back  was  towards  me,  but  he  turned  as  I  hailed 
him  by  name — turned  and  I  saw  that  he  carried  his 
arm  in  a  sling.  He  came  down  the  steps  to  welcome 
me,  but  slowly  and  with  a  very  grave  face. 

"  My  father — where  is  he  ?  " 

"  He  is  alive,  lad."  My  uncle  took  my  hand  and 
pressed  it.  "  That  is  to  say,  I  left  him  alive.  But 
come  and  see.  ..."  He  paused — my  uncle  was  ever 
shy  in  the  presence  of  women — and  with  his  sound 
hand  lifted  his  hat  to  the  Princess.  "  The  signorina, 
if  she  will  forgive  a  stranger  for  suggesting  it — she 
may  be  spared  some  pain  if " 

"  She  seeks  her  mother,  sir,"  said  I,  cutting  him 
short ;  "  and  her  mother  is  the  Queen  Emilia." 

"  Your  servant,  signorina."  My  uncle  bowed 
again  and  with  a  reassuring  smile.  "  And  I  am 
happy  to  tell  you  that,  so  far  at  least,  our  expedition 
has  succeeded.  Your  mother  lives,  signorina — or, 
should  I  say,  Princess  ?  Yes,  yes.  Princess  to  be 
sure —  But  come,  the  both  of  you,  and  be  prepared 
for  gladness  or  sorrow,  as  may  betide." 

He  ran  up  the  steps  and  we  followed  him,  across 
the  platform  to  a  low  doorway  in  the  base  of  the 
keep,  through  this,  and  up  a  winding  staircase  of 
spirals,  so  steep  and  so  many  that  the  head  swam. 
Open  lancet-windows — one  at  each  complete  round 
of    the    stair — admitted    the    morning    breeze,    and 

492 


THE  FLAME  AND  THE  ALTAR 

through  them,  as  I  clung  to  the  newel  and  climbed 
dizzily,  I  had  glimpses  of  the  sea  twinkling  far  be- 
low. I  counted  these  windows  up  to  two  dozen,  but 
had  lost  my  reckoning  for  minutes  before  we  emerged, 
at  my  uncle's  heels,  upon  a  semicircular  landing 
and  in  face  of  an  iron-studded  door  the  hasp  of  which 
he  rattled  gently.  A  voice  answered  from  within 
bidding  him  open,  and  very  softly  he  thrust  the  door 
wide. 

The  room  into  which  we  looked  was  of  fair  size 
and  in  shape  semicircular  to  match  the  landing  with- 
out. Two  windows  lit  it,  and  between  us  and  the 
nearest  knelt  Dom  Basilio  busy  with  a  web  of  linen 
which  he  was  tearing  into  bandages.  His  was  the 
voice  that  had  commanded  us  to  enter;  and,  passing 
in,  I  was  aware  that  the  room  had  two  other  occu- 
pants; for  behind  the  door  stood  a  truckle-bed,  and 
along  the  bed  lay  my  father,  pale  as  death,  and 
swathed  in  bandages,  and  by  the  foot  of  the  bed  on 
a  stool,  with  a  spinning-wheel  beside  her,  sat  a 
woman. 

It  needed  no  second  look  to  tell  me  her  name. 
Mean  cell  as  it  was  that  held  her,  and  mean  her 
seat;  the  worn  face  could  belong  to  no  one  meaner 
than  a  Queen,  A  spool  of  thread  had  rolled  from 
her  hand,  across  the  floor;  yet  her  hands  upon  her 
lap  were  shaped  as  though  they  held  it  yet.     As  she 

493 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

sat  now,  rigid,  with  her  eyes  on  the  bed,  she  must 
have  been  sitting  for  minutes.  So,  while  Dom  Ba- 
silio  snipped  and  rent  at  his  bandages  she  gazed  at 
my  father  on  the  bed,  and  my  father  gazed  back  into 
her  eyes,  drinking  the  love  in  them,  and  the  faces  of 
both  seemed  to  shine  with  a  solemn  awe. 

I  think  we  must  have  been  standing,  we  three,  on 
the  threshold  there  for  close  upon  a  minute  before 
my  father  turned  his  eyes  towards  me — so  far  be- 
yond this  life  was  he  travelling  and  so  far  had  the 
sound  of  our  entrance  to  follow  and  overtake  his 
dying  senses. 

"Prosper!  .  .  ." 

"My  father!" 

He  lifted  a  hand  weakly  towards  the  bandages 
wrapping  his  breast.  "  These — these  are  of  her 
spinning,  lad.  This  is  her  bed  they  have  laid  me  in. 
.  .  .  Who  is  it  stands  there  behind  your  shoulder? " 

"  It  is  the  Princess,  father —  You  remember  the 
Princess  Camilla  ?  Yes,  madam  " — I  turned  to  the 
Queen — "  it  is  your  daughter  I  bring — your  daugh- 
ter and,  with  your  blessing,  my  wife." 

The  Queen,  though  her  daughter  knelt,  did  not 
offer  to  embrace  her,  but  lifted  two  feeble  hands  over 
the  bowed  head  as  though  to  bless,  while  over  her 
hands  her  gaze  still  rested  on  my  father. 

"  We  have  had  brave  work,  lad,"  he  panted.     "  I 

494 


THE  FLAME  AND  THE  ALTAR 

am  sorry  you  come  late  for  it — but  you  were  bound 
on  your  own  business,  eh  ? "  He  turned  with  a 
ghost  of  his  old  smile.  *'  Nay,  child,  and  you  did 
right;  I  am  not  blaming  you — the  young  to  the 
young,  and  let  the  dead  bury  the  dead.  Kiss  me, 
lad,  if  you  can  find  room  between  these  plaguy 
bandages.  Your  pardon,  Dom  Basilio:  you  have 
done  your  best  and,  if  I  seem  ungrateful,  let  me 
make  amends  and  thank  you  for  giving  me  this  last, 
best  hour.  .  .  .  Indeed,  Dom  Basilio,  I  am  a  dead 
man,  but  your  bandages  are  tying  my  soul  here  for 
a  while,  where  it  would  stay.  Gervase — "  he  reached 
out  a  hand  to  my  uncle,  who  was  past  hiding  his 
tears,  "  Gervase — brother — there  needs  no  talk,  no 
thanks,  between  you  and  me.  .  .  ." 

I  drew  back  and,  touching  Dom  Basilio  by  the 
shoulder,  led  him  to  the  window.  "  He  has  no  sin- 
gle wound  that  in  itself  would  be  fatal,"  the  Trap- 
pist  whispered ;  "  but  a  twenty  that  together  have 
bled  him  to  death.  He  hacked  his  way  up  this  stair 
through  half  a  score  of  Genoese ;  at  the  door  here, 
there  was  none  left  to  hinder  him  and  we,  having 
found  and  followed  with  the  keys,  climbed  over 
bodies  to  find  him  stretched  before  it " 

"  Emilia !  "  It  was  mv  father's  voice  lifted  in 
triumph ;  and  the  Queen  rose  at  the  sound  of  it, 
trembling,  and  stood  by  the  bed.      "  Emilia !     Ah, 

495 


SIR    JOHN    CONSTANTINE 

love — ah,  Queen,  bend  lower! — the  love  we  loved — 
there,  over  the  Taravo — it  was  not  lost.  ...  It 
meets  in  our  children — and  we — and  we ^" 

The  Queen  bent. 

"  O  great  one — O  soul  of  my  soul — and  we  in 
Heaven !  " 

I  lifted  the  Princess  and  led  her  to  the  window 
fronting  the  dawn.  We  looked  not  towards  the  pil- 
low where  their  lips  met;  but  into  the  dawn,  and 
from  the  dawn  into  each  other's  eyes. 


THE    END 


496 


Novels  and  Stories  by  **Q** 

PUBLISHED  BY  CHARLES  SCRBNER'S  SONS 
THE  MAYOR  OF  TROY 

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THE   ADVENTURES   OF 
HARRY   REVEL 


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Couch's  most  fascinating  manner.  The 
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Other  Fireside  Tales 

Twenty-one  Short  Stories 

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FORT  AMITY 

"A  fine  historical  novel." 

— Newark  Daily  Advertiser. 

"  The  emotions  of  war  and  the  passions  of  the 
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Midwinter    Tales 

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OLD    FIRES    AND    PROFIT- 
ABLE  GHOSTS 

Fifteen  Stories 

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THE     SHIP    OF     STARS:      a 
Novel  of  the  Cornish  Coast 

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